Killjoy's Mansion
by PunkxValentine
Summary: Forced onto a deserted island in the middle of the Lake Mead, the CSIs are left to survive after surviving a massacre at their crime scene. A night in Killjoy's Mansion will prove to be a difficult night for our CSIs however.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: All right, for the readers out there that are reading my other WIP, A Fight Worth Fighting, I must first apologize until you are deaf. Some... unexpected events have taken place, but I'm working to fix it up. I can't give you a definite time when I'll update that one, so in the meantime, here's something else that'll hopefully satisfy you. Trust me, it's been driving me insane not being able to work on AFWF properly. Second, I realize that this is another story for me to work on. And even when I get AFWF back on the road, if people want me to, I'll continue with this as well. Third, well... Here you go. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own them... I own nothing. I don't even own me.

Haunted On Lake Mead  
By: MC New York

Chapter 1

Grissom's POV

A messy quadruple murder in the middle of the woods near Lake Mead at the beginning of the night. That spelled out "all hands on deck" in my mind.

It was a rather large area. I couldn't even see all of the cadets that were called out for this case. Despite there only being four deceased corpses, anyone with half a working brain and any amount of common sense could tell that the crime scene contained over forty-eight pints of blood. There definitely had to be more people involved for the scene to become this blood sodden.

_Another all-nighter..._ I thought to myself as I continued to inspect the third body I'd self assigned myself to.

After several minutes of picking through the Joe Doe #3's personal property, including an extremely bare wallet and miniature backpack that only contained a wrinkled picture of a young girl about fifteen-years-old in the wallet and a half-empty Poland Springs water bottle in the backpack. No ID, no money, and nothing of expensive value was to be found.

_It could've been a robbery. But why way out in the woods and when there were three other people accompanying him?_ I said to myself, knowing it didn't sound right even in my mind. _And what could be of value to take from a pack of hikers? _I said, dissatisfied with what I thought was a probable theory, noting quickly the man's attire.

"I got an ID." I heard Sara call a few yards away at Joe Doe #1. "But that's about it."

Staring up, I saw as she advanced toward Joe Doe #3 and myself, concentrating mainly on the brown leather wallet she held in her gloved hands. Just like we all did at crime scenes, she made a straight walk with one foot directly in front of the other so she didn't compromise the scene with unnecessary footprints. My undivided attention promptly altered to the tall brunette as I shifted into a much more comfortable position from my squatted stance on the right side of the body. I watched her robotic movements for some time before I spoke up to respond to her previous statement.

"I don't even have an ID on this vic. What have you got?" I asked with exasperation at the fact that I'd been searching the body for over twenty minutes, only to know my efforts were fruitless.

"A twenty-four year old Daniel Kelly, Las Vegas resident. Henderson." Sara discontinued her stroll when she was within arm's reach of me, finally looking up. She took a second to herself to breath before she continued on. "But I've got no money or anything worth any amount of money on him. Just his wallet, a completely blank backpack, and Dodger's hat still on his head. And of course, hiking clothes and boots." Yet another pause came about. "I would clock it as a robbery gone wrong, but who lays in wait in the middle of the woods just to rob a bunch of hikers? Normally, hikers don't have too much on them that'd be worthwhile. Maybe at the most... I dunno... A GPS unit and some cash? Hardly seems worth it."

Looking back down at my nameless victim, I took heed to the fatal cut across his throat. _A crime of passion. _

"I think robbery might've been an added bonus." I lifted my flashlight from the victim's neck to Sara's face. "Crime of passion."

Appearing to be taken aback, she took a glance back at her own corpse with recognition. "Same with my vic. Clean cut across."

"I wonder how the other two came up?" I asked to the atmosphere as I looked deeper into the woods, knowing Catherine and Nick were handling the two other Joe Does.

Catherine's POV:

It seemed as if I couldn't do so much as rotate in place without coming in contact with my victim's blood. A twenty-nine year old Corey Olivia from out of state. _Way _out of state. Way out of country, to be exact. England native.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a very discontented Nick Stokes hang his head low as he removed his ball cap and rest his head against the palm of his hand as he heaved out a sigh.

"How's it going over there, Nicky?" I asked, a small hint of sympathy present in my words.

"To Hell... I've got absolutely nothing. Not even a wallet. Not even a backpack." Nick declared as he stood up, putting his hat back on. "He's got nothing but the clothes on his back and legs. He doesn't even have shoes anymore." Nicky took a much needed break for a breath. "And a nice clean slice across the throat to kill him. But that's all I'm getting off this Jane Doe."

"_Jane_?" I said, looking down at my male vic once more.

"Yeah, she's a woman. If I had to guess, I'd say she's barely out of her teenage years. Maybe twenty? Twenty-one?" Nicky said as he carefully made his way over to me, his footsteps planned out with intense care. "What have you got?"

"Well, I've got an Englander, twenty-nine. Corey Olivia." Remembering Nick's mention of a clean cut across his victim's throat, I took notice of my own victim's wounds. Quite the opposite. "Jagged and ripped wounds around the neck. Almost animal-like." I reached out to stretch out the skin around the neck to inspect it further.

"Well, the coyotes do get pretty hungry and desperate. They could've banned together and took him down." Nicky found a place to crouch down on the opposite side of the body.

"If it was a pack, he would've had more wounds on him. Everything else is intact. His clothes are shredded and he has no defensive wounds. No one in their right mind would simply lay down and allow a coyote to tear at their throats willingly." I commented as I began to check for any plausible reason the vic would be rendered immobile. Finding no sprained or broken ankles or legs, I couldn't think of any reason why the man couldn't out run his attackers. "And besides, a pack wouldn't go through all of that trouble to kill him and then leave him untouched."

"Huh..." Nicky took an overall glance at the area twice before looking back at me. "You know this scene isn't only for four people. There's too much blood to be from only four bodies."

"That's what I was thinking too." I agreed with a nod, propping on arm on my left knee. "All right, so some guys escaped alive. Maybe these four fought back for some time."

"Yeah, but how many attackers can there be for a group of four?" Nicky scrunched up the corner of his mouth as he shook his head in disagreement.

"Well, you know it's like they say... 'The more the merrier'." I offered as I looked around with him now.

"Well we would've found their bodies by now if that's true. If they lost that much blood, they couldn't have gone far. And there's only so much deadweight the rest of them could've pulled with them." Said Nicky as he seemed to stare out further into the woods, in the general direction where we'd seen Warrick, Greg, and Brass walk off into.

"We _are_ close to Lake Mead, though... It's possible that they might've dumped the bodies there. Their TOD was around noontime today and they were discovered at 8:00 p.m." I said to myself and partially Nick.

"Yeah, but then why wouldn't they bother to hide these four?" Nicky said, obviously getting frustrated with the fact that there was no straightforward answer to this case.

Letting out a sigh, I finally stood up, stretching my aching muscles for a solitary moment. "I'm gonna pull a Grissom moment and just say 'Let's not get ahead of the evidence.' We've got nothing to go off of and it's pointless trying to make theories just yet." I said, knowing our theories wouldn't be able to be backed up by the little evidence we had to work with.

This earned me a small chuckle out of Nick for how we all seemed to refer to it as a 'Grissom moment'. "Let's hope Greg and Warrick find more than we did."

Warrick's POV:

All of my years that I spent going to crime scenes, I've seen and smelt some of the bloodiest and some of the most disgusting, but I couldn't remember a single scene that left that coppery smell burning in my nose as badly as this one did. As much as I tried not to inhale through my nose, I could still taste it.

_Could've been worse. _I told myself. _It could've been a decomp._

Greggor and myself had led Brass so far into the woods, I'd been questioning myself whether Brass even knew where we were now. I was still counting on running into one of the cadets just to find my way out. But with every passing step, it became more and more unlikely that we'd run into anything but trees and blood out in these woods. Not even a dead body could be found, and yet there was so much blood. We were far from the four bodies we'd found originally, but we kept following the thick trails of blood deeper and deeper into the woods.

"Can we turn back?" Greg asked abruptly, stopping dead in his tracks.

"What? Don't tell me you're getting creeped out by these woods, Greggor!" I held a quick laugh at the younger man's fear. "Nothing out here besides trees, blood, four dead bodies that we know about, a bunch of criminalists, and the woodland animals. And a lake further back."

"Who said I was creeped out?" Greg piped up as he continued to follow me, seeing I wasn't about to stop. "I'm just saying that we've been walking for a long time. We're not even close to the scene anymore."

"Yes, but we're following the blood trail... Blood trails just don't randomly drop out of the sky, Greg." I told him as I finally stopped to look up and around.

"C'mon Warrick... You seriously don't know where we are, do you? Do you know anything about this side of Lake Mead?" Greg pressed me as all three of us came to a halt.

"Ah Sanders, don't tell me you believe in that bullcrap." Brass said with an exasperated tone in his gruff voice.

"What do you mean, bullcrap? It's true, y'know! I got friends that've come out here and seen the mansion." Greg took a defensive tone now. "Right on that island out there on the lake!"

Scrunching my face up in confusion, I turned back to the bickering men, not having the slightest clue as to what they were talking about. "What are you guys talking about? What's out on the island?"

"You've never heard it, 'Rick?" Greg asked in amazement. "Being from Vegas, how the Hell do you not here of the 'Killjoy Mansion'?"

"Because he probably doesn't listen to phony ghost stories, Sanders." Brass commented briefly.

"'Killjoy Mansion'? Now I'm completely lost." I said as I leaned against a tree behind me, checking to make sure nothing important was on it, like evidence.

"They say that out in the middle of that forested island in the middle of the lake, there's a haunted mansion that used to be inhabited by a psychiatrist by the name of Robert Killjoy and his patients. It was an insane asylum, but Killjoy used it for much more. He used it for experimenting." Greg tried to instill fear within me with his voice.

"Yeah, real Frankenstein experimenting." Brass said with a roll of his eyes.

"But his experiments didn't stop there. He did it to animals, too... He combined the animals with humans and vice versa. Killjoy was one messed up man. He tortured his patients and put them through tests to see how much pain they could take. Physical or mental." Greg switched from staring at me to glaring at Brass when he wasn't looking. "His favorite form of killing his patients was beheading, and afterwards, he'd dissect the bodies and hang them in one part of the basement, while he preserved the heads in the refrigerators for whatever uses later."

"Greg..." I took a second after absorbing all of the information Greg just passed onto me. "Greg, you don't seriously believe that? It's an urban legend. A ghost story. It's not real."

"Oh yeah? How do you know? You've never been out there to say so!" Greg said defiantly.

"And you've never been out there either, to verify the story I bet." Brass said as he turned to walk back in the general direction we came from. "Now we need to find a way out of here and back to the original scene. We can try chasing this trail when there's daylight."

"Ah hah! The stories are creeping you out now, huh! 'Cause you know they're true!" Greg said triumphantly.

"No Greg, it's because I don't want to be the idiot that runs around in the dark, getting lost where people can't find us. I would like to return to my house at one point instead of these woods." Brass said nonchalantly. "Is that okay with you?"

"Admit it! You're getting creeped out by the thought too, aren't you?" Greg persisted.

"No, I'm not." Brass said calmly.

"Stop denying it." Greg rushed up to his side, not dropping it.

Brass yielded immediately and faced Greg. "I'm not afraid of some bogus ghost story."

Just as Greg was about to continue on with his insistence that Brass was getting the willy-nillies over a ghost story, we began to hear the call of one of the cadets from further up ahead.

"Captain Bra--" The cadet's words were cut short with a guttural and watery sound took over it, followed by the thump of something solid hitting the ground.

Instantly removing myself from the tree I had occupied until then, I moved toward Brass and Greg, who seemed to as horrified as I was. And it was as clear as day when we heard a low pitched growl emanating from the direction the cadet had been in, followed by the sound of devouring of flesh. The growl didn't seem to be anything I could associate with any type of animal in these woods. It sounded as if it would be a coyote, but there was something distinct about it that told me whatever it was, wasn't a coyote.

"That's not a coyote, is it?" Greg's small voice squeaked out as we moved backwards, away from the noises, in unison and at a snail's pace.

"Shh!" Brass instructed harshly as he unholstered his issued gun.

But as soon as Brass had the barrel of the gun pointed upwards, through the dense woods were multiple glowering red and yellow eyes glaring at us intensely. They were set far too low to belong to humans, yet where positioned too high to be owned by any four-legged creature.

"Run." Came Brass's next simple command. "Run, and get out your guns."

Letting my hand fall toward my holster, I'd barely been an inch away before it was mysteriously taken away from it. Gone. Vanished, and I was positive that it'd been there before. And it seemed that Greg's gun had seemingly disappeared as well.

"Shit!" Brass cursed, no longer possessing his gun.

Wasting no more time, the three of us turned and ran from whatever was now chasing after us. I was surprised when Brass was able to keep up with my hastened pace, but was mortally horrified when I saw Greg falling behind, out of breath and out of luck.

"Greg!" I stopped myself to turn back.

Still concealed in darkness, the glowing eyes drew closer and closer to the still running Greg Sanders. I had begun to run back until Greg tripped and crash landed onto the ground that I stopped in terror, getting my first glimpse of the creatures that were pursuing us. That couldn't be real...

Sara's POV:

"_Greg!_"

Jumping with a start, I calmed my wild pulse down within a matter of minutes. Looking over at Grissom confirmed that I wasn't the only one that'd heard the scream.

"That sounded like Warrick." Grissom said when silence ensued.

"Maybe we should go look for them. That didn't sound like an angry yell... Sounded like..." Before I could even get my sentence completed, several boisterous sounds resonated from far in the woods.

"_Dammit!_" That couldn't have been mistakened for anyone else besides Nick.

"_What the Hell?_" Catherine's unpleasant confused voice followed straight after. "_Jim!_"

"_Warrick! Where's Greg!_" Nick's concern was heavy in his Texan voice.

"_Keep running!_" Brass's rough voice commanded, cutting off any further conversation between the three.

Heavy footfalls, panting - and now – a vicious and threatening snarls followed. At first, I could've sworn it was a coyote or some type of canine, but when it appeared again, I knew something wasn't right with the sound. It seemed to be a combination of a hiss and a rattle of a snake. What kind of animal gave off a sound like _that_?

"Brass!" Grissom called out, standing up and moving backwards in my direction now.

Searching for the officers that were to secure the scene, I could only lay my eyes on one, and as soon as I did, he'd dropped dead – _literally_. Arterial spray from his throat colored the nearby trees as his body feel to the ground, landing in a puddle of my victim's blood. The worse part was, I couldn't see the attacker and nothing could be so quick as to slit his throat and disappear in a blink of an eye. At least, nothing that I'd encountered in my life.

Without a second thought, I reached down for my trusty gun, but I quickly withdrew my hand with a sharp intake of breath. Not only was my gun now gone, but I had an open gash right across the palm of the hand that'd tried to retrieve my gun as well. Clean cut and it hurt like Hell.

"Grissom, I think we have a problem." I said as I removed my blood-covered and filled glove, applying pressure to the open wound to stop the bleeding.

Before his reply was voiced, however, we were soon enveloped by multiple glowing cat-eyes, glaring at us with a burning hatred and deadly intent. Instinctively, I backed up until my back came into contact with another solid item – Grissom's back. I tried my hardest not to cringe as the lights that were placed around the scene for us to work in the light broke or sizzled dead, submerging us in a total darkness.

"Don't go for you gun..." I whispered back to Grissom.

"Are you insane? It'll be the only that protects us at this point." He whispered back harshly, and before he could comment anymore, I felt his arm reaching down for his gun.

_WHOOSH!_

Springing away from whatever had just brushed past my arm, I struggled to see through the darkness to catch a glimpse at what was attacking us. A fruitless endeavor.

"What the Hell?"Grissom said quietly to himself, clearly in confusion.

Just then, Brass and the rest of our colleagues came sprinting into view, Brass leading the pack to my surprise. I never knew the man to run that fast in the entire time I'd known him. Catherine came in, nearly tripping over herself, and Nicky seemed to be helping Warrick along at the end. Warrick limped at a hasty pace with a gash tearing across his right leg, but all the rest were virtually unharmed... Simply shook up.

_Where's Greg?_ My mind asked itself, when I realized he was the only one missing.

"Shit!" Brass said as he came to a stop near us, staring around in a horror I'd never seen instill in his eyes before.

He didn't need to say anymore for us to know what he was thinking. We were trapped with no way out. And it was only until the unidentified creatures slinked out of the veil of darkness that the realization set in. Not only the trapped feeling, but the feeling of utter puzzlement as well. Our attackers indeed were coyote, but it was far from the average type.

That when our normally organized team went into a total state of disarray. Catherine stuck close by anything and everything that could protect her, while Nicky and Warrick picked up nearby branches and used them as makeshift baseball bats to lead their assault on several of the creatures. Brass fought on his own, staying within a close proximity of Catherine, acting as a bodyguard of sorts. And at this point in time, weaponless defense was paying off for me – to an extent. But the more I used my hands for weapons, the more I became wounded. Eventually, the beasts had pushed me so far back that I tripped over the deceased officer that laid dead on the ground. The CSI part of me scolded me for contaminating the evidence, but this was about my life now. I'm sure it'd be understandable and within reason in the courts, but then again, you can never tell.

With the sight of the officer's corpse distracting me slightly, I didn't notice when one of those monstrosities leapt for me, landing on my chest and attacking my face in an instant.

_Protect the face and throat. Protect the face and throat. _The mantra repeated over and over in my mind as I shoved my left forearm into its powerful jaws.

I couldn't help but shake with a fear as I was forced to encounter the animal this close up. Out of all of the Sci-fi movies I'd watched with Nick and Greg, it didn't seem to take the shock away from the beastly sight in front of me. Not even the Resident Evil movies. The animal attacking me surely was a coyote, but was hairless – along with skinless – with tears in its exposed flesh so you could see straight down to its bones. The blood dripped down from the deformed animal onto my face and body as it tore at my arm, ripping the skin open. I held in my cries as I tried to kick the animal, feeling the canine teeth sink further and further into my arm.

Between the intense adrenaline rush and the shots of searing hot pain, it felt like I could pass out at any moment from the pain. Out of nowhere – just at the last minute – a swinging leg bunted the animal off of me, sending it crashing into the tree with a pained howl. Staring upwards at my savior, I saw no other face besides that of Grissom's, out of breath but still alive. Helping me to my feet, I stumbled from the pain that shot through my body and now left me with questionable vision.

"Are you all right?" He questioned, clasping his hand around the back of my neck, looking into my eyes as I caught my breath, flinching in pain as repeated waves of pain ran through my arm.

"Fine." I said through gritted teeth.

"Take this." Said Grissom as he passed a metal rod, apparently from one of the light stands, just as one of those animals launched from behind him and attached to his back, digging his teeth into his shoulder.

Gripping the rod tightly, I slammed it down on top of the creature that clung to Grissom's back down, splitting his skull wide open to expose its liquid contents – as well as its brain.

_So much for not being able to kill. _My conscience said as I backed away from the creature that – despite his already impossible position – still squirmed alive on the ground.

"Let's get everyone together. We can't hold out much longer." Grissom advised, still taken aback by the creatures in front of us.

Nodding in agreement, we split up to aid the rest of our colleagues. By the time we'd formed into a large group, we were being pushed back into the wall of trees behind us by the growing pack of animals in front of us. Snapping their jaws and snarling their unique snarl intimidatingly at us, all of us suddenly lost all thought of what to do next. But once again, as luck would have it, another unexpected character opened a pathway for survival.

"HEY! OVER HERE!" Greg's yell came from behind the pack, though he was no where to be found.

Our heads, along with every member of the four-legged pack, turned to stare off into the general direction the voice had come from. Turning tail, the whole pack took off to pursue Greg through the woods. Looking around now, I tried to listen or see Greg as the pack slowly disappeared into the dense and dark woods.

"C'mon you guys... I know how to get away from here." Greg's voice whispered – barely audible – from behind us.

Not one of us didn't jump as Greg appeared behind us, coming out from behind the thick trees. Never once in my life had I been so happy then I was now to see the squirrelly CSI. Seeing no other option, the six of us let Greg – for the first time ever – lead us to someplace. Racing and weaving between the trees, Greg eventually brought us out to the shoreline of Lake Mead. Our cars were too far away to have been able to make it, and in our state of panic and confusion, it was highly doubtful that we'd be able to find them.

"Greg, if you even speak one word about going out to that island..." Brass prompted the statement as we slowed down to a halt.

"Fine then, I won't say anything." Greg said as he continued to limp. "I hope you guys can all swim."

"There's has to be a boat around here somewhere. Look for one." Grissom instructed, already busying himself with the task.

Hurried and frantic searching brought us to a less than trustworthy boat, but it was still a boat at any rate. It was far from up-to-date, two ores found inside of it, but it was better than nothing. "You guys! I found something." I called out, yelling in a whisper.

With Grissom and Warrick coming into view, I began to tug at the boat that was stuck inside a viscous puddle of mud. Grissom and Warrick soon grabbed either side of the boat and heaved it up and out of the mud trap, aiding me in bringing it down to the water that lapped up against the shore. Everyone now seemed to huddle around it, glancing behind their backs with a sense of paranoia instilled in their bones.

"All right. This is how it's gonna work. All of the injured people get inside." Warrick said as he steadily climbed into the boat, one foot in and one foot out on the sand. It only took a short amount of time for all of us to realize that everyone was injured.

"I'll swim." I volunteered, knowing that a couple of puncture wounds to my forearm wouldn't affect my swimming ability.

"Me too. It's only a couple scratches." Nick piped up, moving to stand beside me.

"I'll swim too." Greg grunted as he attempted to join, but was quickly stopped by Catherine.

"There's no way that you'd be able to make it, Greg. You look like you should be dead." Catherine said, gently guiding him toward Warrick who helped him into the boat.

"I'm injured, but I'm not dead!" Greg claimed, but made no effort to remove himself from the boat.

"I can make it." Grissom – to everyone's surprise – stepped forward. "Everyone else, get in the boat."

"You can make that entire stretch? C'mon Gil, stop kidding." Brass said with doubt in his voice, while Catherine got into the boat.

"Yeah, I agree with Jim, Griss... I'll take your place. My other leg still works fine." Warrick said as he began to remove himself from the boat.

"Stop judging my abilities according to my age, if that's what you're thinking." Grissom ordered, already relieving himself of his shoes and jacket, items which would only weigh him down in the water.

Whether they were going to admit it or not, everyone was doubting Grissom's endurance due to his age to some length. With the exception of myself, that was. Though I didn't know from experience, I could tell that he had a well-built body physique.

"All right, but if you get too tired, I'll switch." Warrick threw the offer up in the air as Nick and myself began to relieve ourselves of our jackets and shoes, tossing them inside the boat with Grissom's belongings.

The swim there – to say the least – was freezing cold. It was longer than I had anticipated, and regardless of my being in shape, I found it to be a struggle to keep up the pace with the rowing boat. It was the same case with Nick and Grissom, the both of them having to grab onto the side of the boat several times just to not fall behind. But even though Grissom had visibly become tired and strained with the continual swimming, he refused vigorously to switch places with Warrick out of the multiple times he offered.

That why it was to no one's surprise when the three of us collapsed in a heaving mass when we washed ashore of the island out in the middle of the lake. Dragging myself further on my stomach, I made it as far as Grissom's collapsing body as he rolled onto his back. When I gathered my energy, I lifted my head and stared across at him.

"Boss? You all right?" Nicky's Texan drawl resonated from the other side of Grissom's body.

"I'm all right, Nick." Grissom managed to get out. "Sara?"

"Hmm?" I questioned, letting my head drop to the ground once more. "I'm fine."

"Gil!" Brass's bellow sounded from the boat as it finally came ashore. "You are one of the most stubborn men I've ever met. Are you guys all right over there?"

"Yeah." The three of us yelled in unison.

"At least we're away from those things." I said, more to myself than anyone else.

"You can say that again." Nicky chimed in as he sat up now. "But now, how do we get off _here_?"

"We wait until daylight. From there, we'll row back toward the side of the lake closest to the highway. It's a straight shot from the other side of the island." Grissom said as he now sat up from his laying position. "We'll get back to town from there."

"Near the highway? We'd have to climb the rock wall just to get up there." Greg chimed as he approached us, along with everyone else.

"Well, it's that or we struggle finding our way out of the woods anywhere else. I'd prefer climbing that wall than getting lost in the woods." Grissom said as he now got to his feet, offering his hand down to Nick to help him up. "For now, we need to find someplace to build a shelter for the night."

"I know a place." Greg spoke up, reaching down to help me up to my feet. "Killjoy Mansion."

"Greg..." Brass said in a warning tone.

"What have we got to lose?" Greg cut him off, stepping closer to the woods that inhabited this island. "There's the path." He pointed to a very narrow dirt path straight ahead. "If we follow it all the way down, it'll take us to the stone wall that surrounds the mansion. If we hop the gate, we can make it into the mansion. It's our only chance."

"I know you're not talking about that crazy doctor's house, Greg." Nick said with a slightly worried tone.

"Would you rather stay outside all night?" Greg questioned rhetorically as he began the walk toward the path.

"I'm going with him." Catherine spoke up immediately after the silence that encased us.

"Me too." Warrick chimed in, following Catherine and Greg.

"Might as well." Grissom said, pursuing the growing group.

"We've got nothing to lose." I finally decided and took off after them.

Hearing a sigh come out of Brass, I heard his reluctant footsteps begin as well. "C'mon Nick. It's better than nothing at all."

"Heh, somehow I doubt that." Nick said with doubt as the two caught up with the rest of the group.

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**TBC?**

A/N2: Whatcha think? Review, please people. Even if you think it sucks. I realize I'm going Sci-fi on a CSI fic, and thatthe charactersmight seem slightly OOCbut it's a thought I had. Why be ordinary or cliché? Let's go unconventional for once! Dare to be different! R&R Because you know that gives me a lil' TLC.

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, I flew through this chapter... The first review I got, and I took off to write more. Doesn't take much to motivate me, I guess! So I must thank Jane, lil'spencefan, and mystical panther for your encouraging reviews. It's people like you that make me feel all happy inside and keep me writing. So for you three, and whoever might me reading but not reviewing, here's the next chapter. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its merchandise. But I _do_ own the plot, this story, and the Sci-fi creatures I make up in this story. So hah.

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Chapter 2

Sara's POV:

Closing my eyes, I jumped off the top of the twelve foot – I roughly estimated – gate, to land on my feet with an extreme ease that shocked me. Standing up, I look through the elaborately designed steel gate that was rusting in certain spots to see that only Catherine remained on the other side. I'll admit, I was a bit more than reluctant about scaling the monumental gate, but with a running start and a complete lack of thought on the matter, I managed to make it up and over with only slight damage done to my hands. But Catherine was being just plain ornery about the matter entirely.

"C'mon Cath! You can do it! Just do what Sara did!" Nick encouraged from beside me now.

"I can't! I just can't!" Catherine's paranoia had her staring behind her with every word she spoke. I had never seen the older woman in a state of panic before. Frustration, even fear, but the woman seldom became panicked. The thought that a cool, calm, and collected person like Catherine was losing it sent a small shiver down my spine. "I've never been able to climb things, ever since I was a kid."

"That's it, I'm going back over." Warrick suddenly spoke up as he gently jostled his way through the crowd of friends, taking a hold of the gate now.

"War, what are you thinking? You could barely make it up and over the gate before, and Nick was helping you then. Let me or Nick go." Greg suggested, making a bold move and clutching Warrick's jacket to pull him back down as Warrick had already begun his ascent.

Nick moving to help Greg pry Warrick off the gate, he steadily began his own ascent. "Yeah bro. Don't do it. I'll go get Cath."

In no time at all, Nicky had successfully maneuvered both Catherine and himself up and over the fence, safely back on the ground within minutes. With a silent thank you to Nick, Catherine turned back to the rest of the group with a renewing breath, retrieving that same "Catherine-mood" we all knew she possessed.

"Well, are we just going to sit around like this or are we going to go inside?" Catherine asked, not expecting an answer as she pushed herself to the front of the group to assume her partial authority.

"Oh, and miss out on securing this 'haunted mansion' with me?" Brass queried sarcastically. "C'mon Cath. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Back in the forest on the mainland." Catherine responded dryly.

"I think Brass has a point. I, for one, would feel safer if we at least knew our way around here..." I spoke up, looking around at the faces that now concentrated on me. "Not just the inside, but out as well."

Slowly but surely, everyone managed to agree to the idea of searching the place. Breaking everyone into a small group, we set off into separate areas around the mansion, which turned out to be much larger than it appeared from the front. Greg stuck close by to Nick as they took the right side, while Warrick grouped with Brass and Catherine as they took the general left side. However, the groups were made far too quickly for either Grissom or myself to catch onto, so we stood in a rather dead silence as we watched our friends walk into the distance – out of sight and out of mind for the time being.

"You know..." I cleared my throat, breaking the prolonged silence. "This place is pretty big. We'd be able to cover more ground if we went on our own."

Continuing the previous silence from before, Grissom scratched at the back of his neck with a slight nervousness. "I'll umm... I'll stick close by..." His sentence seemed to have wanted to stop there, but when only the awkward silence commenced, Grissom hastily added, "Just in case."

"Thanks. I appreciate that." Said I with a small smile.

To avoid that dreaded silence again, I took off in the direction Greg and Nick had gone in. After several steps, I heard the footfalls of Grissom pick up as well. Pulling the smile that still remained on my lips, I couldn't help but wonder how I could managed to be lovestruck in a time like this. I surmised it to just be one of the upsides about loving the reluctant entomologist. He could take my mind off of anything temporarily.

The realization that this mansion was beyond being monumental in size only fully hit me when I became conscious of the fact that I'd been walking in a straight line ever since I'd started – which had been ten to fifteen minutes ago. I was amazed that even on the inside of the walls we were still encased with dense trees. It wasn't any different from being in the woods back on the mainland.

_And I haven't seen Nick or Greg or Grissom any time soon either._ I thought a tad bit uneasily to myself.

For the next minute or so, I proceeded through but now wishing that I'd at least stuck with Grissom. I took my rest up against a tree behind me, staring up through the holes in the ceiling the tops of the trees created. I could see the thick clouds rolling over the clear sky, blocking my view of the brightly burning stars.

_...I wake up early like the sunrise, to be there for you when you wake up. _A deep, yet soothing, voice floated through my ears, originating from practically in front of me.

"Huh?" I said quietly to myself as I got up and off of the tree, now in search of who was singing.

But to my complete surprise as I pushed through several more trees, I enter a totally opened space where the lawn was perfectly cut to perfection with a miniature pristine lake directly in the middle of it all. A wooden boardwalk led to the center of water, where it formed a bridge to a wooden gazebo that held only one visitor at the moment. My amazement came from not only the fact that this area appeared to be an absolute microclimate compared to the rest of the place, but mainly that the gazebo's lone visitor held the person that was singing in such a perfect pitch and tune.

None other than our very own Gil Grissom.

"And I-I can't seem to get you off my mind. See, since the day we met I've been on Cloud Nine. I think that's why I didn't recognize I wasn't putting in enough time..." The voice I never knew Grissom possessed sung softly, yet to perfection. "I'm nothing without you, like a fire with no flame..." And he just continued to sing from there as I advanced toward him.

I flinched as the boards beneath my feet betrayed me by announce my presence to Grissom with a creaking groan. Abruptly turning about, Grissom faced me, with the ice blue color in his eyes glowing with an intensity I'd never seen before. The became as pristine as the water was. Brown and blue locked for a solitary moment before his lips creased upwards into one of his unique smiles. With a chaste toss of his head, he made the indication to join him as he resumed to lean against the railing of the gazebo and peering over and into the water below. As I slowly took my place next to him, mimicking his position, I could see several golden orange colored fish swimming with content below us.

"Never thought you'd be the type to listen to R&B, Grissom." I said with a bit of mirth in my voice.

"Warrick was driving on the way to the scene. He wouldn't change the channel, so now that song is stuck in my head." Grissom easily explained, only looking up once at me before returning it back to the water.

"You have a nice voice." I complimented him, stealing a sideways glance at him. "I bet you took lessons."

"No... My Mother taught me." Grissom allowed his head to droop for a single second before picking it back up to look straight ahead.

"I thought she was deaf." I checked to see if my memory had served me correct.

"She could still speak even after she lost her hearing." For some reason, Grissom's voice seemed to fade further away from me, despite the given fact that he was next to me.

"Grissom?" I stared over next to me again with questioning eyes. The only thing was...

Grissom wasn't there anymore.

Standing up right and glancing around, an abrupt flash of light temporarily blinded me, but when my vision came back, I found that I was in less than beautiful and breath-taking surroundings. The pristine water beneath and around the gazebo – which seemed to be on its last leg now in appearance – was now a murky olive color that was filled with algae beyond belief. The fish I was saw alive were now floating belly up – death rising off of their drying scales as their wide eyes stared up at me accusingly. And as I looked to the shore now, I noticed the grass was at least to my collarbone in height.

_What the Hell..._

"Sara!" Twirling around, I now saw that Grissom was fighting his way through the thick Savannah-like grass to finally step out onto the wooden bridge.

My confusion held me at the gazebo while Grissom continued to advance toward me, wary not to get his foot caught in the many holes that now plagued the bridge I'd previously walked across. It took some time, but eventually, Grissom was inside the gazebo with me, now standing right where I'd hallucinated he'd been standing beforehand.

_Was I really hallucinating? I had to be... Right?_

"Sara, who were you talking to?" Grissom inquired, peering down at me with the question in his eyes as well.

Still at a loss for words, my mouth remained somewhat ajar and my eyebrows elevated halfway up my forehead. "You were... I was... This was..." For was seemed like one of the few times, I wasn't over-talking around the man. Hell, I couldn't even get out an complete or intelligible sentence. There was only one way to either confirm or deny what I'd just encountered was real. "Did your mother ever teach you to sing?"

My confusion seemed to drift across to Grissom when his forehead creased up with puzzlement of his own. "What... How did you know that?"

Ignoring his question for the moment, seeing as how I couldn't properly reply to it without making myself sound insane, I pulled out the next question. "Do you have an R&B song stuck in your head right now from the drive to the scene? From Warrick driving?"

"Sara, how do you know this?" The same question came right back as the puzzling expression on his face grew.

Quietness seemed to control my body for a moment as I shook my head and shrugged in that same silence. How was I to answer that? _Oh, I just had a slight daydream where you were singing and the surroundings actually seemed romantic?_ Sure, how many times to you hear a person say that in a day?

"Just wondering. It passed through my mind suddenly." I opted to set up a simple white lie.

Whether Grissom decided to drop it or if he actually believed me, he definitely decided on moving on from the subject. "Who were you talking to out here?" With a look down, he threw a questionable look at the floating fish. "Making acquaintances with the wildlife out here?"

Holding back the smile that pushed its way up, I lowered my head to conceal it even more. At least I wasn't the only one that could miraculously keep a non-panicked attitude around here.

"Yeah. They're not much of a talker though, I'm afraid." I played along. I had a feeling that humor was the only thing that was going to get all of us through this night.

_Please don't let me be hallucinating this part..._

A rustle in the grass from back on shore caught both of our attention right away, holding our breath at the thought of it being one of those creatures we'd encountered before. It'd distracted us a moment too long, for neither of us seemed to notice the large unidentifiable object from beneath the murky water emerge briefly enough to slam into the gazebo, the impact having enough force behind it to make both of us lose our balance. Hastily taking notice of my options – either take a swim with the unknown creature in the water or grab onto Grissom for support – I opted to avoid the first choice as much as possible.

Leaning forward, I clung to Grissom's still wet shirt as if it meant my life, burying my face into his chest. At any other time, I might've reveled in how good he smelt or how surprisingly firm the man's chest was, but as the unknown creature came back for a second jostle, I found very little time in between to notice such things fully. The only thing I did actually take conscious notice to was Grissom's arms wrapping around my waist firmly, holding me to him protectively.

"Griss! Sara! Get out of there! Now!" Nick's voice urged from the shoreline as the gazebo took another hit from the underwater creature.

Lifting my head up from Grissom's chest, I now figured I had the worse timing when my welcoming sight was our aggressor rose out of the water and perched its dagger-like claws into the weak guard railing to support its body wait as it released a guttural roar with its bear head mere inches away from us.

My pulse shot up as I stood there frozen, taking in the sight of the black bear's head that was in plain sight now. Bit of flesh hung off of its face, however, there was no blood now. The water, or what you could call water, had washed the blood off, and the bear head didn't appear to have any left in its system. It's lower jaw swung loosely, clearly stating it was broken, while its eyes were split in half to show the insides were coated with the algae on the open sides. And of course, from the water, the rancid smell wafted off of him to burn my nose enough to make my eyes water up.

_If that's its head, I don't want to get to the rest of the body._

The first tug I got was immediately after the beast had jumped out of the water from Grissom, who didn't appear to be as frozen as I. One tug was all I needed and soon I was the one leading Grissom down the boardwalk. Halfway there and my carelessness earned me a crash landing when my foot fell into one of the holes in the boardwalk. Feeling the cold water from the murky lake splash against my foot, I rushed to get it out as I heard the beast lower itself back into the water. Grissom hoisted me up and into his arms in an attempt to remove my foot as the aquatic bear swam at an impossible speed toward us, its head raising out of the water with its mouth open wide. The closer it came, the more frantic we pulled. Even Nick had come out to accompany us and help me as the creature closed in on me, going faster still.

Grissom suddenly discontinued his pulling and set me down on the boardwalk again. In one fluid movement, he turned about and shoved Nick backwards toward the shore with an amazing force before turning back and taking me back into his arms and slamming his heel around the area my foot was caught in. Breaking it in, we could've made it out in time, had the creature not chose that time to leap out of the water and plow us backwards and into the water. Its jagged teeth and dagger claws ran across both of our mid-sections as it ran directly in between us, making us hiss in pain with unison as we were submerged in the suffocating water.

"Grissom! Sara!" A watery yell was heard coming from both Nick and Greg from the surface as I fought to resurface.

The water stung my eyes to no end as I tried to locate Grissom through the dark water. Not even being able to see two feet in front of my face, it was an absolute unpleasant surprise when the aquatic bear came straight up from the deep depths, dragging Grissom along by the left ankle with its mouth.

All the breath was knocked out of me as the muzzle of the head rammed straight into my stomach, launching us back above the water. But just as quickly as we'd surfaced, we were dragged back under. As I tried to move away from the head, I found to my horror that it had a tight hold of me by my shirt. Grabbing at my shirt, which concealed a white tank top underneath, I lifted it up and over my head to relinquish its hold it had over me, thereby freeing me from the jaws of the beast. But even as I floated there, free as a bird, one more person was still defenseless – for once. Grissom.

As he rushed past me, pulled down by the bear, I did the first thing my mind screamed at me to do. Help him. Reaching out just before he was entirely out of reach, thankfully I managed to latch onto his arm with both of my hands. The attempt immediately showed to be a unsuccessful one as I was right back where I began – getting dragged to the bottom by this enormous creature.

I could no longer see the surface. As if I could see anything before, but now we were enshrouded in darkness. It was pointless to try and swim against the powerful creature, as it seemed to be bred for the water with its herculean strides cutting through the water like a knife through butter. As soon as we'd hit rock bottom, the lack of oxygen to my brain had me seeing black spots flash before them. It took some time, but eventually I realized that the creature had relinquished its grip of Grissom and left us laying on the lake floor.

Pushing past the haziness, I approached Grissom that seemed to be in the same delusional state I was in. Tapping him on the shoulder, I got a weak response out of him but it was all I needed to know he was still alive. My first thought was to have him attached to me but there nothing that could help me out with executing that plan, so I opted to wrap my arm around his mid-section and swim for all it was worth. Hopefully those hours of swimming against the Californian waves as a kid paid off now for both of our sakes.

**TBC...**

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A/N2: I'd like to say that no fish or bear heads were harmed in the making of this story. Professional stunt doubles were used, so don't throw the animal cruelty book at me. 

All right, I couldn't help myself. I admit it. I'm a GSR (ahemOBSESSOR). But I tried to put some horror into it, and I hope I succeeded. I'm telling you, I'm writing this story at the dead of night and I go to bed with pictures of these creatures. I hope I'm not being a wuss here by getting freaked out by my own creations. Well, review, as always.

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Okay, I'm back with another chapter. Not too long of a wait, right? Not too agonizingly long, right? I hope not. S Oh yeah, and I'm back to switching off POVs, per a certain reviewer's request. Last chapter I just went a lil' crazy with Sara's POV. Heh... Can you blame me?

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Chapter 3

* * *

Nick's POV:

"Grissom! Sara!"

Getting up from where Grissom had shoved me aside, I scurried to where that monster had dragged my boss and good friends down into the green and putrid water, peering over with anxiety. Searching wildly, I tried to see past the surface, but to no avail.

Standing up, thoughts of how to rescue Griss and Sara began to formulate in my head. "Greg? Did you keep that flashlight we found?"

"R-right here." Greg, shell-shocked, replied as he tossed the hefty, high-voltage flashlight at me from shore.

Catching it just before it fell into the water, I froze in spot as I recognized two things: the sound of a solid object cutting through water and the bubbles that rose to the surface. Knowing it was either the creature coming back for some more victims or Griss and Sara, I took the optimistic side and prayed that it was the boss and Sara. With increasing anticipation, I kneeled deathly still as the number of bubbles multiplied like rabbits in mating season.

The thick coat of algae prevented me from seeing Sara being dragged up by Grissom until he rose completely to the surface, gasping desperately for air and spitting out the water that filled his mouth. Reaching forward, I took the unconscious Sara Sidle from his arms and helped him hoist her on top of the broken up boardwalk. Grissom soon followed, pulling himself up with the help of Greg who had joined me in getting our friends out of harm's way.

Gathering Sara into my arms, I lifted her up and the four of us ran to shore – Grissom keeping up despite the limp in his step – as fast as our feet and the boards would allow it. And when our feet touched solid land, we still didn't stop until we came to the clearing through the thick weeds that separated the pond from the rest of the land.

Laying Sara back down again, the three of us waited in pure worry for a response from the woman. CPR was what every one of us was thinking, but before anyone could get the words out to suggest it or make any actions to do so, Sara began to cough up the algae infested water that was clogging her lungs. Rolling slowly on her side, we backed up to provide her some personal space as she gradually lifted to her hands and knees – spitting out the water with disgust.

Before Sara could even get a word of thanks out to any of us, Greg quickly enveloped her into a hug that could've suffocated her if Grissom and I hadn't pried him off.

"Thanks for the concern Greg, but I'm fine." Sara said as she finally rose to her feet. "Enough exploring. I just want to get inside now."

"Let's go find Warrick and Cath and Brass then. Make sure they haven't run into any trouble like we did." I suggested, looking around at the agreeing faces as we slowly took off for the other side of the yard where our other three friends had wandered off to.

* * *

Grissom's POV:

Seeing Nick and Greg already starting off in the general direction we knew Catherine, Warrick, and Jim were in, I slowly began to limp afterwards, gritting my teeth at the pain that shot through my leg from where the creature had taken a hold of me. Despite my best efforts, the sound was still heard by the rest of them. As Nick and Greg turned about, Nick opened his mouth to state his concern until Sara cut him off and moved to my side.

"Don't worry. I'll stick with him and we'll meet up with you guys at the front entrance. We'll try to find a way into the house while you guys go find the rest of them." Sara informed the two men who turned with great reluctance and began to walk once more, slower than before with casual glances backwards at us.

Once they were out of view, I turned to the woman beside me with questioning eyes. "You know, I would've been all right. It's just a puncture wound on my ankle."

"I know, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Besides, I wanted to thank you without causing a scene. For saving me, I mean." She responded, looking slightly sheepish as she glanced at the ground and her feet with great interest.

"Not to sound too cliché, but it was nothing. I do care about the people on my team, Sara, and if I can help it, I won't leave them in harm's way." I said with a nonchalant tone as I made my way back to the entrance, having Sara at my side.

I had wanted to say something else, but decided against it, deciding to generalize it to the entire team. It wasn't far from the truth, but still. I didn't have the courage to say exactly what I felt.

* * *

Warrick's POV:

Twisting my head back in the direction I'd heard the yells and screams coming from, everything fell silent except for the rustling of the grass beneath our feet as Brass and Catherine continued to walk on.

"Did anyone else hear that?"

"Hear what?" Brass asked for both Catherine and himself.

"I dunno. Kinda sounded like Nick for a second." Shrugging after a second more of listening, I sighed. "Guess it's just my imagination."

"Stop worrying about everyone else. They're adults too. They can look after themselves Warrick." Catherine comforted me as we continued to walk.

For the past twenty minutes or so, Brass had been leading us deeper and deeper into a maze that brought us around and around in circles – or so it felt like. But just the last ten minutes had been dedicated to retracing our steps out of the maze. We'd even tried to push our way through the dense, tall shrubs that made up the maze. But we soon found out that the shrubs just concealed hard cement walls underneath them. I'd considered trying to climb to the top and find the exit from the view up there, but the pain in my leg from the wound I'd gotten trying to save Greg's behind originally was only getting worse and made me back down from the idea.

"Are we ever gonna find our way out?" I asked to the sky and everyone else around me. "We keep going in circles. And I'm sure of it this time because I remember putting that pebble right here..." I bent down to retrieve a rounded and smooth pebble that I'd picked up before we'd entered the maze. "when we passed this spot _five minutes _ago."

When neither of my two companions responded, I let out an aggravated sigh I'd been holding in since it was officially said that we were lost. Putting my back against the shrub wall, I slid to the ground with the rock still in my hand.

_At least the moon's starting to come out._ I said to myself as I gazed up at the now nearly cloudless sky that now exposed a full moon.

I jumped to life and dropped the stone when I felt a tingling sensation resonate from the small pebble I'd been holding and fiddling with only moments before then. Catching the attention of both Catherine and Brass, the stone caught everyone's eye as it began to glow a bright white. Little by little, it began to advance toward the turn we'd just made at a very slow pace. Looking from face to face to make sure what I was seeing was real, I picked up the stone once more, not surprised as much by the tingling that overtook my entire arm.

Flipping it over onto the other side, I could see an emblem of a moon etched into the stone. Feeling a tug pull me in the direction we'd just come from, I followed the silently given order and began to walk, Brass right by my side and Catherine nearly by my side as the path was too narrow for the three of us to walk side-by-side with one another.

Whenever I approached a T-junction, the stone would vibrate so violently to the point that it would hurt if I took a particular turn but would be soothed if I went in the opposite direction. Anything that caused me pain, it was safe to say not to go in that direction. But the stone held Brass and mine fascination so closely that we didn't even notice when Catherine was no longer as close behind us as she was to begin with.

* * *

Catherine's POV:

"_Lindsey, won't you come play with us?_" A female child-like voice asked with an almost maniacal giggle.

"_Sure. What are we playing?_" The familiar voice of my daughter asked, yet something seemed wrong with it.

"_Hide-and-go-seek tag._" Another female child-like voice replied.

After stopping dead in my tracks, I whirled around knowing that there was no way that Lindsey could possibly be here when she was at home with my Mother and her best friend, Katie, who was sleeping over for the next two nights. And yet, my eyes were met with a fourteen-year-old Lindsey Willows standing in a small group with two other girls that looked about eight or nine years of age. Both girls looked identical to each other, not only with their looks but their clothes as well. About shoulder height to Lindsey, the little girls had Egyptian styled haircuts, their hair blacker than black and combed straight down to their shoulders. Paler than the white nightgowns they both wore, they could've passed off for a corpse on Doc Robbin's slab in the morgue. And in their right hands was what looked to be a homemade doll with buttons for eyes and scraps of clothe for the grayish dress that adorned the doll.

"_Who's it?_" Lindsey inquired with the anticipation she used to have when she was younger.

Two pairs of beady black eyes glanced up at me and the slightest of smiles slid onto their thin lips. "_Your Mother._" They stated in unison as they pointed with their unoccupied hand up at me.

Turning around, Lindsey glared up at me with a look of disgust and disappointment I hadn't seen in a while. Ever since the two of us had gotten into an argument about her father's death about three months ago. But I knew what that look was saying without the words having to be put behind those eyes. She was mad at me, as well as aggravated. It was the look I received whenever I was interrupted from spending the little time my daughter actually wanted to spend with me or couldn't do what I promised I would as a result from work.

_Now I remember why I hate that look. It always makes me feel guilty._ I recalled as I hadn't seen that look in a while.

Instinctively, I reached out to try and comfort my daughter like I always did when I was at the receiving end of that look, but she tore out of my reach before my hand even got close to her shoulder. Sprinting off after the two girls that led her deeper into the maze, the mother part of me forced my feet to chase after her. And after the first couple of steps, reality kicked in that Lindsey was back at the house – safe and sound – but when I tried to stop, I found I couldn't stop running. My own mind was no longer controlling my body as I was guided down paths I hadn't seen on our walk through before.

_What is wrong with me?_ I wondered as I slowly regained control of my legs as I turned into an open area. _Where'd they go?_

"_Behind you._" The first girl's voice answered the question in my thoughts as I walked into the center of the maze that held three marble benches on three of the four sides.

Backing up while I turned around, I saw the two girls facing me but Lindsey was nowhere to be seen. And without another word, the two girls advanced toward me and walked almost robotically _through_ me to reach the other side. The wind was taken right out of my lungs as the girls passed through me and as I moved to turn and face them, I just briefly saw them pass through the wall behind a frightening scene.

_"Why can't you just work normal hours like a normal mom!" A fourteen-year-old Lindsey Willows screamed at a replica of me. "What happened to your job as a Swing Shift supervisor? Or did you mess that up like you did my life, too!" _

"Lindsey Elizabeth Willows..." An unsteady voice that questioned the authority in the instance yelled out at the teenager. "You **know** why I'm no longer heading Swing Shift! After what happened to Uncle Nicky, do you have **any** idea what that did to everyone?" The matter was still delicate now and was especially back then, at the time this had taken place. "What that did to Uncle Gil? To Greg or Warrick? **To any of us!**" The authority that was questionable to begin with became even more questionable when the voice began to crack.

"And do you have any idea what it feels like to not have a Mother around? What it feels like to know you **have** a Mother, but can't even get two minutes out of her time without her being called off to work!" When there was no reply, Lindsey stormed off toward the hall and slammed her bedroom door upon opening it and entering it.

A stressed out Catherine Willows soon ran her hands through her hair, keeping it pulled back from the rest of her face until the cellphone on her hip began to ring. Exhaling, she unclipped it to check the caller ID upon answering in the almost programmed way she did for any call. "Willows."

After a few garbled words from who was clearly Grissom, she closed the phone in slow motion before falling back onto the couch behind her and purposely allowing the cellphone to slip out of her fingers and hit the ground as she leaned forward to place her head in her hands.

The translucent memory eventually faded into the night, leaving me there astounded. It seemed where I always had something to say that this was not me standing here. I remembered that argument. Lindsey refused to talk to me until three days later until my own Mother forced her to at least say a few words to me. We'd left the matter unresolved as I could never find a time to conduct such a talk with her. And now it had me wondering:

Was I still pushing Lindsey away from me by not being there like a normal Mother should?

I've had this conversation both with myself and close friends such as Gil plenty of times before, but it never seemed to resolve no matter how much I talked about it or thought it out. I knew I needed to talk with the person that was actually involved – Lindsey – but when do I even have time to have a _simple_ conversation with her lately, much less an in depth one that could last hours. Every time I get a day off, Lindsey always seems to purposely make other plans to make sure she's not within a mile of me.

As I sat on the marble bench, completely forgetting where I was and what predicament I was stuck in... As I forgot that Brass and Warrick were probably already half way out of the maze by now... The scene played over and over in my mind, forcing me to think about it over and over as it did. That's when my resolve came though.

_After we get through this... I'm going to make time for Lindsey in my life._

And though I'd been making that promise to myself and her ever since I began working at the lab, this time I was going to see it through.

**TBC...

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**

A/N2: Yeah, I know, this chapter was kinda random, but it popped in my head and I just had to go with it. It wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it out. (My thoughts can be very persistent, y'know?) But yeah, let me know what you think.

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Phew... I had a tough time getting this chapter started and where I wanted to go with it. But after many trial-and-errors, I think I came up with the best one out of them all. I think. Not sure, you gotta review for me to be positive. And by the way, shouts to all of my lovely reviewers that have reviewed thus far and is going to keep reviewing despite how eccentric this story line is. It means a lot.

Disclaimer: I, in no part or whole, own CSI, its characters, the production, or the like. So don't sue! What? You'd get a grand total of a lint ball, and _maybe_ if your lucky, half a penny. Oh my! All the possibilities to do with those two things!

Chapter 4

Greg's POV:

The rustling of the trees and grass didn't settle my jumbled nerves as I continued to walk. Having an encounter with whatever freaks of nature that lived on this island was not something I wanted to happen. Especially not after being attacked by those _things_ back in the forest on the mainland.

_Hah! Take that Brass! The stories are true!_ I thought triumphantly to myself as I continued to walk next to Nick.

Okay, so it was more like directly behind him.

That's why when Nick came to an abrupt stop, I almost toppled over him and nearly landed us down the ground in an uncomfortable position. I was all for getting close to my friends, but that wasn't a closeness I wanted to share with any of my friends, no matter how well I know them.

Grumbling slightly, Nick stayed rooted to his spot and listened. Too preoccupied with my victory thoughts over Brass, it didn't take a brainiac to know that I'd missed something. But when I didn't hear anything after seconds of listening to the wind in the trees and the insect life doing their business at night, I gave up the effort and turned to Nick.

"What did you hear?"

"Shh!" He said harshly before shoving myself behind bushes that were planted along the backside of the house that we were walking along now.

_Prickly_ bushes, might I add.

Crouching low to the ground and avoiding movement like the plague was for two reasons – because movement would have the thorns digging deeper into my skin, and because of whatever Nick had carelessly thrown myself and himself in here to avoid. That's when I heard it, or rather... _felt_ it.

The ground trembled with heavy footsteps as they proceeded closer and closer to where we were hiding. And whatever it was that was moving, as it drew closer, with each footstep, my entire body jumped slightly off the ground without myself even helping it to do so. It got to a point where I thought I might jump too high and blow our cover if I didn't stabilize myself to the ground. Of course, what was to grab onto where I sat besides the ground beneath me, Nick next to me, and the branches to the bushes in front of me?

I just couldn't reach over next to me instead of in front of me, could I?

The thorns dug into and pierced my soft palm and made my eyes water up from the small pain, also making me pull back with the shock. And try as I might, a small squeak escaped me. Damn.

Nick clasped a clammy hand over my mouth as I nursed my poor hands in my lap when I noticed that whatever had been walking moments ago had stopped. And not just stopped, but stopped directly in front of where Nick and I were hiding. For once, I decided as I only caught a glimpse of this creature's _legs_, I _didn't_ want to investigate further what this thing might be. Those were _not_ runway model legs, that was for sure.

Seconds seemed like hours and just that one minute felt like a day as Nick and I waited for this creature to pass. When we were sure the creature was out of sight and feel, we both – in unison – let out a held back yell of pain from the thorns that pierced our bodies. We scurried as quick as we could from the bushes and rushed to removed the discomforting thorns in our sides, literally. It didn't take long until we came to the same realization.

"That thing is going toward Grissom and Sara." We stated in harmony. "Well, I'm not going after that thing by myself!" We replied to each other's questioning gazes.

"Let's hurry up and find Catherine, Warrick, and Brass. That thing was coming from their direction... Who knows what happened." Nick suggested, turning back to stare off into the distance that thing had disappeared off to. "Grissom and Sara are definitely smart enough to avoid that thing if we could avoid it with those bushes."

Agreeing with him, knowing he was right, we rushed off in the direction we were originally heading in, and at a faster pace than before. Course, if you saw that leg, you wouldn't want to go any slower in case it came back.

Trust me.

Warrick's POV:

I slowly allowed Catherine to stand up from underneath me as I got off of her. _What in the Hell was that?_

"Holy shit. There's no amount of alcohol you could consume to make that thing look decent." Brass grumbled, spitting out the dirt and grass he had eaten when he dived out of the way from the destructive path that thing had going.

Helping Catherine off the ground and brushing the dirt off of myself and her, I then inched to the newly opened gap in the wall the creature had caused, peeking my head to see how much it had obliterated. If there was a positive aspect to be made, at least now we could find our way out with ease. It was now just a straight shot out of the maze.

"Well, I'm glad you guys found me..." Catherine muttered, observing the destruction the creature had made.

"Why weren't you right behind us, Cath?" For some reason, that statement sent all of my nerves into overly worried mode. "This isn't some fiction book where everything turns out fine at the end! You could've gotten seriously hurt if me and Brass hadn't turned back. And you would've been crushed if I hadn't gotten you outta the way!"

Catherine appeared slightly taken aback by my tone which had raised considerably from the starting tone. Even I was stunned by how distressed I was when I knew that everyone was fine. So why was I blowing up?

"_A wedding band does not proclaim love, Warrick."_

Grissom had said that to me, to everyone's surprise. It was perhaps the only advice Grissom had ever given any of us in the area of love or romance period. He wasn't the first go to guy when we were having dilemmas with our love life. For cases and intellectual problems, yes, not knowing what's wrong with you for not loving your wife and another woman, no. But at the time, he was the only person around. Gotta work with what you got. But I had to give the man his props for someone who none of us think even _has_ a stable love life, if one at all. That was possibly the best piece of advice he's given me throughout the entire time I've known the guy.

"Hey, War... Take it easy. We got to her in time and we're fine." Even Brass wasn't able to put any sarcasm in his defensive statement for Catherine. I guess my tone had been that serious.

"Yeah, yeah... I know." I said, exhaling a breath and rubbing my face with fatigue. "I'm just so... skittish since this whole night began."

Feeling a slender hand that I couldn't say with a straight face that it belonged to Brass, rest upon my shoulder, I turned to face Catherine who had one of those forgiving and understanding smiles. "Don't worry, Warrick. It'll be sun up soon. For now, we just gotta do what we gotta do. Let's just go find everyone else, make sure they didn't run into trouble."

"Yeah, let's go. That thing tore a hole in every single one of these walls for us." I replied, already limping my way over the debris.

"Why did you leave us anyways?" Brass inquired, spitting out yet another clump of dirt.

There was an intake and then exhale of breath after holding it for a moment or two. "Trust me, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Oh yeah? Try me." Brass used the line he often reserved for criminals.

"Lindsey."

Catherine's POV:

"Cath! Brass! War!" Nicky's Texan accent rang through the air.

Rotating around, the three of us squinted through the settling fog to see two approaching figures that were now at a jogging pace. Two slim figures, that had to be our Greg and Nicky.

Never so relieved to see the ex-lab rat and feeling just as relieved to see Nicky as the day we found him in that Plexiglas coffin of his, I encased both of them – one at a time – in a hug. "I'm glad you two in one piece."

"What! What do you mean? Where's Sara and Grissom?" My words began to alarm the CSI rookie.

Mentally kicking myself for phrasing it like that, I revised my words. "No, we didn't find Grissom or Sara in any other condition, nor have we found them period. We were hoping you guys did."

"We found them once, but we split up to go search for you guys. You will _never_ believe what we found in this pond. We didn't want to think of what other kind of things are on this island so we went after you guys while Griss and Sara went to the entrance. They're waiting for us there right now, probably." Nicky put in the words that Greg just hadn't managed to quick enough.

"And then there was this big ass monster that came tearing through here and we from the way we were jumping all around, it should've been an earthquake." Said Greg with the excitement and intrigue of a four year old.

"Yeah, we know..." Brass said, pulling out what I hoped for his sake the final piece of grass from his dive into the ground from earlier. "We had a run in with it ourselves."

"Y'all okay?" Nicky looked from face to face.

"We're fine. Just barely missed it, but we managed." Warrick said, rubbing his sore neck that he began to complain about a minute back.

Everyone continued a light and semi-casual conversation as thoughts swam through my mind relentlessly. _What monster did they see at the pond? What if Grissom and Sara are getting acquainted with that thing?_ That last thought sent a stone cold shiver down my spine. Now I had a feeling that Grissom was in danger now. Call it a hunch, call me paranoid, call it whatever you like, but it was usually those hunches that saved him when he needed it the most. Like with Sid Goggle, the Strip Strangler. You couldn't ask me to explain what made me want to find where Grissom was at that point in time, but I was glad I did.

"You guys? We need to find Grissom and Sara now." It wasn't a stated suggestion, it was a demand.

Either I had spread my paranoia like a disease or everyone noticed the urgency in my voice, but everyone soon was set at a fast pace – given the condition they were in – and we all made our way toward the front of this mansion.

Sara's POV:

"Almost there..." I whispered to myself as I passed by a graffiti sign that I knew was towards the entrance.

Hearing the labored breathing coming from Grissom who kept falling behind me, I stopped and turned to him, seeing the difficulty he was having walking now at this point. Unsure of how much longer he'd be able to even stand, let alone walk, I guided him to the wall so he could lean up against it for support.

"Grissom? Grissom!" I called out as he slid to the floor, falling in and out of consciousness like a bored person channel surfing.

It was no surprise that I couldn't lift the deadweight by myself, especially when it was an unconscious Gil Grissom. So I knew that it would be a futile attempt to even try to drag him the rest of the way to the entrance.

_Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up! Dammit Grissom, wake up!_ I willed as I shook him by the shoulders.

"Shit, great timing to do this to me." I mumbled as I looked around for something that would help me transport from his fallen spot to where we needed to be.

But as it happens too often to cartoon characters, things can always get worse. And with the ground steadily increasing a horrible shake one step down from a level six earthquake, it was more than just a shallow guess that things were about to get worse. _Much_ worse.

It was common sense, I figured as I stared around in every direction, that when something makes that much of a violent rumble and it can't even be _seen_, that it's not worth sticking around to investigate about. So far, everything from tonight was not worth investigating in my personal opinion, seeing as how this has been like a science-fiction novel or show that I'm dreaming about and will wake up in my bed in a cold sweat. That's usually how these things work out, right?

That didn't seem to be the case as the shaking intensified and now I was beginning to see an approaching object off in the foggy distance, and just like everything on this island thus far – it looked neither normal nor kind.

"C'mon Grissom! Now would be a great time to _wake up_." I stressed to my unconscious boss, attempting to hoist him up from his underarms.

With a strained effort and using the wall behind him as a guide, I could lift him halfway up to his actual height when I began to feel the wall crumbling from all of the weight it was taking on plus the creature shaking everything within a two mile radius – or so it appeared. On the inside of the wall, I heard the fragments from the breaking wall fall onto what sounded like a hard surface – most likely concrete or cement, if it was the basement down there like I guessed.

_It's worth a shot if it saves the both of you._ I thought after the hasty internal debate regarding what to do.

Pushing all of my body weight, all 114 pounds, into Grissom and the wall, my heart jumped to my throat as I realized two things. One, the wall gave out easier than I implied it would, and two, Grissom's blue orbs were peering into mine less than two inches away with an expression which could only be described as shock.

_Great. **Now** he decides he wants to wake up._ I couldn't help but think as we fell backwards, neither of our reactions quick enough to resist the pull of gravity.

A forced groan emerged from Grissom as we made a crash landing into what I could only surmise to be a wine cellar. _A wine cellar in an Insane Asylum? How well did this Dr. Killjoy treat his patients?_

Sitting up and immediately removing myself from straddling Grissom's waist without him detecting the blush that rose to my pale cheeks due to the dark cellar, I crouched down next to him as he propped himself up on his elbows. The minute I saw his mouth open, I covered it to hush him as I knew that creature was lurking closer to us and that he would blow our cover. Tugging on his shirt, I indicated the darker regions of the cellar instead of the light that spilled into the room from the newly made hole in the wall. Getting the gist of what I was attempting to say without words, we submerged ourselves in complete darkness and silence as we awaited the creature to pass us.

I found it difficult to breathe when the creature, in all probability, was directly in front of us but I was comforted by Grissom's presence. When the low pitched growl emanated from outside, I allowed myself to shut my eyes and simply be solaced by Grissom's being, breathing in his unique scent that wafted off of him.

The danger quickly passed and I set myself about to examine the room we'd fallen into, not only to satisfy my natural curiosity but to get away from Grissom. This room was indeed a wine cellar, but as I removed one of the bottles from the rack, I found that the wine was far from drinkable and was already opened. Several of the bottles were labeled with the particular type of wine, plus some type of lethal ingredient penciled in next to it. One read "rat poison" while another read "Eastern Diamond Back Venom". My face scrunched up at the thought of what kind of man this Dr. Killjoy was exactly. I wouldn't take it that he normally had a glass of wine with a side of "ammonia" – as the next bottle I picked up read – nightly.

"Thank you for saving me back there. Saving us." Grissom's voice finally spoke up from where we'd fallen.

Turning back, seeing him leaning up against the wall for support and standing in the exposing moonlight, I offered a half smile that he probably couldn't even see. "I'm going to apply that thank you to every other time that I save us from things like that for the rest of the time we're on this island." I said, having a feeling this wouldn't be the last time I'd save one of us, or vice versa. "Take a look at these bottles Grissom."

"They're just regular wine bottles, aren't they...?" The question was left to dissipate in the air as soon as he picked up one from the rack beside him. "I guess not." Bringing the bottle back into the light for a better inspection, uncorking the bottle with ease. Wafting it from afar but then receding even more from the repulsive bottle, he let out a choked cough. "Care for a glass of red wine with a helping of bleach?"

Making yet another face as I advanced toward him with my bottle still in hand, I leaned over to read the label before holding up my bottle. "Ammonia and bleach mixed together don't settle well with me, Dr. Grissom. Thought you would've known that." I permitted a quirky tone to slip into my voice as I replaced the bottle into an empty slot on the rack next to us.

_Of all the times to get our harmless flirting back, it has to be now? What is it with me and timing tonight?_

But as I was about to let go of the neck of the bottle, an idea struck me and stopped me. Alcohol... A rag, and a flame. Molotov Cocktail. Taking out the bottle again, I inspected it as if it were a vital piece of evidence in the case of the year. I was certain that we would run into many more creatures like the one Grissom and I had just avoided, but it was impossible to duck and dive forever.

_Better arm myself properly before I reside permanently on this island._

"Grissom, do you think you can make it to the entrance?" I questioned, stacking bottle after bottle into my arms busily.

"I'm fine now." Grissom insisted, intrigued by my actions. "I'm not sure why I passed out back there. Sara..." He quickly took a hold of the wrist that belonged to the hand that was going to grab the ninth bottle. "What are you doing?"

"Molotov Cocktails." I blurted out so fast the words molded together into one word. "You didn't think of that, now did you Mr. Supervisor?" I teased him, resuming.

"I'm an entomology expert, Sara." Said Grissom with a smug smirk. "Not a pyromaniac expert."

"I do not belong to the 6 of women arsonists." I defended with a mock glare at him. "Just help me get as many of these as you can. I have a feeling we're gonna need them."

Both of us stopping momentarily, we caught the faint shake as we felt that monster going further and further away. Clearing his throat softly, Grissom joined me in retrieving the bottles. "Where did that notion come from?" He asked sarcastically.

Placing the bottles in my arms at the entrance of the hole in the wall, I turned back to him and took the wine bottles he had already collects, putting them in the pile with mine. "I never go off of notions, Dr. Grissom. I simply follow the evidence."

**TBC...**

A/N2: A'ight... There it is folks. Please review now. Please? You'll be greatly rewarded if you do! Oh yeah, and if any of you have any ideas of any gruesome creatures you want featured in this story, just let me know in a review, PM, whatever... Description, "nickname" for it, and its strengths and weaknesses. And I'll be sure to put it in ASAP. Because, as you can see from this chapter, I didn't have much of a beast. Don't blame me, blame my siblings. All they gave me to go off of was "ugly grandma legs and earthquake huge." Yeah, overbearingly descriptive, ain't it? Oh my! I can't take it! Lol.

Peace out, One love,  
MC New York


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Been a while since I updated this! And I am terribly sorry! No excuse offered except... I've had a crazy, unbelievable time since I last updated. But no worries, I am back with an update and I made it a long one! Major props to all my readers and reviewers! I see I've gained some more, and I'm loving it like McDonald's! Keep 'em coming ya'll! Oh, and... Word to the wise? Yeah, it gets very sick and twisted towards the end of this chap. Heads up. It was a tough scene to write, trust me.

Disclaimer: Do I look like I'm sitting on white gold? I'm not even sitting as I write this! So, duh! I don't own 'em!

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Chapter 5

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Nick's POV:

It could've been the chilling night air, or maybe Greg rambling and rambling on in his nervous state about his superstitions regarding this mansion were finally getting to me. At any rate, it felt cold. That spine tingling cold that was only associated with bad things in movies when the major characters about to walk right into a life-threatening situation.

"And then, there's the _other_ myth about these two girls..." Greg said, glancing nervously about as he was about to get into yet another tale from this island.

"GREG!" Brass's voice boomed at our youngest CSI. "ENOUGH."

Greg flinched under Brass's annoyed and intense gaze, while Catherine seemed to pick up an extreme interest in what Greg was about to say – stopping for a few beats before going to Greg's side instead of Warrick's.

_Surprise, surprise._ I thought with a snicker inwardly for my best friend and ex-supervisor.

"Greg, what was that about two girls?" Cath's blue eyed gaze cast upon Greg with an almost desperate need for knowledge. "Keep going."

Shifty eyes switched from Brass to Catherine, clearing his voice before continuing with his tale. "Well, I don't know the whole thing... But I do know that there were these two little girls that were sent to this institution when they were only about eight or nine..." Greg told Catherine in a secret of a whisper practically, casting a circumspect gaze over at Brass every other second. "They had just lost a triplet sister and their Mother didn't know what else to do with them beside send them to here. Some say the mother sent them here because they were depressed and were pyromaniacs. And you know what they say... Live by fire, die by fire. Stories have it that they wander around the outside searching for their lost sister and burning anyone who gets in their way to ashes."

A look of horror crossed Catherine's normally calm and collected face. Heading back over to Warrick, getting in between the both of us, she proceeded to lead the group forward like Brass had been doing beforehand. Warrick and I both stuck to her side, gently prodding her as to why she was suddenly acting so strangely. Greg and Brass also offered their support, but at a distance.

"That's why I had stopped back there..." Catherine eventually responded, most likely talking to Warrick than me. "I saw them."

"Cath, now you're just acting crazy." Brass commented, annoyed with this whole concept already. This whole night, really.

"Hey!" Warrick's defensive voice boomed at Brass. "This whole night has been screwed up. What Catherine saw might be the first normal thing by tonight's standards, _all right?_" All eyes were on Warrick now from his blow up.

"Hey hey now!" I interposed before Brass and Warrick went at it like they used to frequently back when Brass still ran the unit. I could feel the old tensions and differences rise again between the two. "Warrick's right about one thing... This night has been... weird. But let's not go and turn on each other, all right? Just chill out."

The two spilt apart, calming their haywire nerves before speaking up again. "Yeah... I'm sorry man... I didn't mean..." Warrick began first.

Brass held up a silencing hand to Warrick. "Don't even apologize for it. This whole night has got everyone's nerves fried anyways."

"You guys? Look up ahead." Greg suddenly intervened, pointing his finger straight ahead. "It's Grissom and Sara!"

Sure enough, out of a hole in the wall, the boss and Sara came crawling out after helping one another with a hand downwards. Though, strangely enough, they began collecting multiple objects that were laid out on the ground. And it was only until the group got closer that we saw that they were walking away with bottles on top of bottles of wine or champagne – one or the other. Whistling like I would to call in my dog to the house, I cried out to the two.

"Hey! You goin' off to have a party without us?" My attempt to inject humor into the situation caught their attention.

"Uh... Yeah. Care for a glass of Shodenai with a hint of..." Sara took a moment to read the label of one of the bottles she held. "liquid nitrogen?"

"I, uh, think I'll pass." I backed down as we all regrouped, not wanting to think of what liquid nitrogen would do to my system.

"I'm not even sure which question to ask first." Jim declared, taking a hold of the bottle in Sara's hand to inspect it.

"There's a whole wine cellar through that wall over there." Grissom pointed his head in the general direction to the wall we'd just seen them crawl out of. "But, I wouldn't drink anything out of there. It's not your scotch, Jim."

Giving off a sarcastic laugh, the rest of us turned to Sara. "Two words: Molotov Cocktails."

"Oh joy. Just what we need – Sara going pyromaniac on us." Greg teased her lightheartedly.

"Be careful Greg. You don't have too many places to run that I couldn't find you now." Sara pointed an accusatory finger at Greg as she took the bottle back from Brass.

Greg cowered behind me to use me as a human shield from the hurricane we knew as Sara Sidle. Stepping aside from Greg, leaving him vulnerable to Sara, we got a laugh as Greg next slinked behind Catherine who was the only person left near-by him.

"Not even Catherine can save you now, or stop Sara for you, buddy." Warrick laughed with a shake of his head.

"All right, then I'll go behind someone that she couldn't possibly hurt..." And with that said, Greg rushed behind Grissom. "Hah!"

Sara just simply rolled her eyes at Greg's jesting and chose to ignore him from there on out. I took the time to address a more serious matter, not meaning to be the bearer of bad news. "Why don't we get into the house? It's gotta be safer in there than out here with... whatever those things are."

"I agree with Nick." Warrick said, coming up next to me and patting me one on the back. "It's gotta be better inside then wandering around in the dark out here."

With everyone mumbling their agreement, we began to trudge on toward the front entrance. Warrick eventually abandoned my side for a better cause – to be by Catherine's side to comfort and warm her. The space next to me wasn't empty for long though, when Greg came up and had that forever goofy grin on his face.

_Figures that through all of this, he'd still have that grin on his face._

"What could you _possibly_ be smiling about, Greg?" I emphasized the word 'possibly' to try and make him see the actual situation.

"I told you Sara wouldn't hurt Grissom to get to me." That grin stayed put on his face, lighting our way through the condensing advection fog. "Word to the wise."

"Yeah, thanks Greggo." A tight smile came onto my face as another one of those freaky feelings settled around me again.

"HIT THE GROUND!"

Reflexes were, indeed, a wonderful thing in my mind. Yanking Greg down by his arm, we narrowly missed a boulder the size of a fifty inch TV putting a hole in our faces. The boulder collided with rusted iron bars on a window, splitting the rock in half. Off to our left, as I turned my head from my place flat against the ground, there was absolutely nothing except a bunch of trees. No Hulk sized monster, no deformed or defected creature that questioned even simple biology – nothing. But after several seconds, that's when something came into view.

But what I saw made me believe Greg's stories just a little bit more about this place.

Two identical little girls emerged from the woods, wearing simple white dresses and jet black Egyptian cut hair. They couldn't have been any more than eight or nine. And yet, despite what should've been an innocent age, there was something purely sinister about them. The fact that together they managed to raise rock straight from the ground to cement together to form one large boulder didn't help their outward image at all either.

"RUN!" Sara's voice advised as the gravitating rock was hurdled toward us again.

Keeping extremely low to the ground but sprinting at the same time, I felt the boulder just brush past my back, barely skimming it. I had lost contact with Greg as he wasted no time in sprinting ahead, leading the group toward the front entrance. Sara and Grissom had managed to hold most of the wine bottles, but the ones that slipped their grasp ended up rolling behind and smashing, spilling the poisonous liquid all over the ground and seeping into the dirt. I was almost positive that I was the last one behind the group, until I heard Catherine's confused cry.

"Lindsey?!"

Skidding to a stop and getting back on my hands and knees low to the ground, I turned back to see Catherine standing directly in the path of another boulder that was in the works. Just next to me, I saw Grissom restraining Sara from going to get Catherine out of danger. But soon after I began to take off after Catherine, Warrick already beat me to it by carrying her off against her will. For some odd reason, Catherine was thoroughly convinced that Lindsey was here, resisting with all of her strength to get Warrick to put her down.

"Go for the door! Just go!" Warrick's voice urged, cradling a flailing Catherine Willows in his arms as he too made a dash for the front door.

Dodging and ducking from boulders proved to be a much more difficult task. The rough terrain with the holes in the ground had everyone watching their steps delicately and yanking a tripping person back up to speed with everyone else. Adrenaline had everyone pretty much at the front door first, pounding into the sturdy barrier with their shoulders since it seemed to stick despite the fact that the door was unlocked.

Behind us and growing closer was the two little girls, maniacal giggles echoing through the air. Silently staring over at 'Rick who had Catherine in a tight embrace to keep her from running off into impending doom, he diverted his attention just for a split second to receive the message I was getting across. Passing Catherine off to Brass who temporarily took over the job of holding Cath in place, 'Rick took the open space behind me and with our combined strength, we were able to bust open the door with a few nudges of our shoulders. Piling everyone into the house, I was the last one in as the little girls finally made it to the front of the stoop. Their black abyss of eyes held me captive from the other side of the door, rendering me immobile as they gradually took each step closer to us. From behind, I felt two large hands shake me rather violently, helping me back into reality.

With the help of Warrick and Grissom alike, with our backs against the immense door, we closed off the outside world of this surreal world. Altering my vision from either side, from Grissom to Warrick, I nearly jumped out of my skin when the door that the three of us worked to shut shook from another boulder colliding into it from the other side.

"We are much more merciful than those that lurk within that house." Unified petite voices informed us all from within the dark foyer. "And if we do not get you, surely your mind and the others will."

And with that, a whooshing sound resonated from outside. I sighed as I closed my eyes, sweat beading across my hairline on my forehead as I took solace in the thought that those little girls were gone.

For now.

* * *

Catherine's POV:

Arms held me rooted to my spot in that dark and musty smelling foyer that we all stood in now. But they weren't the arms I wanted. Brass eventually lessened his hold on me after I gave up my struggle and the little girls outside had given their warning to us. I could see the silhouette of my colleagues and trusted friends.

I was thoroughly convinced that Lindsey had been with those girls outside again. I had seen her with my own eyes! She was standing directly behind the two girls while they were building those boulders, glaring at me with my blue eyes. And it was only as Warrick had grabbed me and taken me away that I saw Lindsey take flight into the woods behind her.

_And if we do not get you, surely your mind and the others will._

The words finally registered in my mind. The truly saddening part was that I wasn't even concerned about the "others" part of that sentence. It was the "mind" part which had me standing there dumbfounded – a once in a lifetime sight all on its own.

_Is this island really making me crazy?_

Turning about now, I took in the foyer in detail with the small amounts of dim moonlight that poured in through the barred windows. The wine bottles for the Molotov Cocktails that Sara and Gil was planning on constructing laid in a pile right beside the large dungeon-like door that Gil, Warrick, and Nick had just shut, but only with a combined effort. This asylum could've been easily mistaken for a secluded mansion. Of course, time had taken its toll on everything this house possessed and without the proper management, everything inside of this house was trapped inside a time capsule. Hardwood floors had collected such vast amounts of dust that shuffling your feet would build up a cloud of dust that hovered around you. Plants that sat in vases and pots on various stands had withered and died long before now.

_This must've been his house before he welcomed the insane to inhabit it with him._ I was quick to conclude, eyes finally resting upon an enormous portrait of who I took to be the good doctor. _I hope he didn't have his family here with him. Or perhaps a family at all..._

With creaks and groans trailing behind me as I veered off to the right to examine the portrait more closely, a recognition settled in my mind. I'd seen this man before. TV or newspaper, I couldn't remember now, but I'd definitely seen his picture before. Dr. Killjoy was just his surrogate name. His real name was Dr. Robert Johanson. I could only surmise that he'd gotten his name because there were so many patients of his that had gone mysteriously "missing" rather than discharged and sent home. Well into the hundred.

Dr. Killjoy had strong facial features that could've made him a very distinguished man out of a crowd of replicas. He was one of those men, much like Gil, that you could simply look at and know right away that he was a well educated man. The only difference between Dr. Killjoy and my long time best friend? Dr. Killjoy had crossed the thin line of genius and psychopath all too easily while I only thought Gil teetered between the balance every so often. And despite the fact that Dr. Killjoy was indeed what you could call a mad scientist, he looked like any other dignified person in his profession. Beady black eyes with matching slicked back black hair. A fair complexion was hidden as his white lab coat made him appear deathly pale, buttoned all the way to the top of the neck. Dr. Killjoy could've been approximately Warrick's height with Nick or Warrick's build. Or maybe Gil's, who knew? I'd never seen the boss with his shirt off – just Warrick and Nick when I catch them changing in the locker room.

"I never thought I'd miss my apartment as much as I do right now." Sara shivered as we all felt a draft brush past us.

Just with that single comment, it began the gradual increase of whines from Greg and Nick who couldn't help but agree. Even I had to agree, at least in my mind. I wasn't one for whining about things out loud until I was tired and without a good cup of coffee. And no, the break room coffee never counted unless Greg brought out his special brew.

Gil removed himself from his spot to the right of Nick just several inches away from the front door that was now securely shut and bolted shut, taking his place in front of our whole team, framed by a darkening and stretched out hallway behind him.

"There's no sense in wishing for something that won't happen, so let's just try to settle in until day light, all right?" Gil's voice rose above the three younger CSIs to quiet them.

"Settle in? Settle in? Grissom, take a look around us!" Sara exploded, stepping forward and indicating to everything in general. "We're stuck inside a mental institution with these... _things_... that look like they jumped out of a science fiction book! How can you expect us to _settle in_?"

"I never said that it would be easy to accept this, but unfortunately, we don't have much of a choice in what we get to do at the moment." Gil countered, silencing Sara right where she stood. "We should just find a room to house us all for the night and take turns for the night vigil."

Taking my position of what I felt was second-in-command of this group, I moved to Gil's side, paranoia honing in on me with my back to the deepening darkness and the unknown. "So, instead of wandering around in the dark, does anyone have their flashlights with them? That haven't been damaged by water or otherwise?" I looked from silhouette from silhouette only to see shrugging shoulders. Until I came across Nick and Greg.

"Greg! The flashlight." Nick nudged Greg in the side with his elbow.

"You left it at the boardwalk when you were getting Sara out of the water." Greg responded, giving off a tone with an attitude. "Remember?"

But just before Nicky could move on to silently cursing himself for not grabbing the flashlight, Brass stepped back toward the door, putting his left hand up in the air. "Wait, there's a light switch. Let's see if it works before you get all riled up, Nick, and go running out looking for that damn flashlight."

"Like Hell I'm going back out there by myself!" Nick exclaimed with a snort of laughter.

As soon as Brass flipped on the light switch, all the light bulbs in the foyer turned on and died at the speed of light. The sound of the filament and glass breaking all around us made us recoil, dropping close to the floor impulsively. Once again, we were submerged in darkness.

"Well, looks like that's out of the question." Brass noted sarcastically as we all stood back up.

"Guess we're playing it blind, then..." Warrick commented, advancing forward. "Literally."

* * *

Sara's POV:

I bet that this Dr. Killjoy kept everything homelike to give his patients a false sense of security the moment they walked through that front door. Softened them to the harsh reality of what they were really there for. But looking around at the well furnished foyer and kitchen we'd moved into made me wonder if this place was legalized to hold criminally and clinically insane people. What kind of person welcomes these people into their homes with open arms?

_Obviously Dr. Killjoy._

At the end of the foyer had been a set of double doors that led to the main kitchen. Linoleum tile floors generated a coolness just as the hardwood flooring had in the other room. The kitchen was certainly the appropriate size to feed a mansion full of people. Two walk-in refrigerators, restaurant quality grills and stoves, and your mediocre counters placed around in convenient places with drawers for the kitchen implements, silverware, and plates. There was an open doorway to the separated dining hall off to the right.

"Whoo-hoo! Kitchen!" Greg exclaimed, taking off for one of the walk-in refrigerators.

"Well, I'm sure he's going to be in a land of fresh lamb chops and steak in just a few moments." Brass sarcastically remarked to Grissom next to him, causing my face to scrunch up in distaste.

"C'mon Greggo! We're supposed to be looking for light and a room to sleep in! Not a midnight snack!" Nick reminded him as Greg began tugging the large metallic door open.

"Hey, if he comes up with something edible, I won't complain." Warrick crossed his arms as we waited for Greg to open the door.

"Such a shame you turned into a vegetarian, Sara. I doubt I'll find any fresh cabbage for you." Greg grunted out with each violent tug at the handle.

Forcing out a sarcastic laugh toward Greg, I countered his banter. "And to think I was just about to help you out with that door, 'Superman'."

At that moment, the door Greg had been unsteadily prying open eased up and fell back to allow Greg access. But Greg couldn't seem to make it past the threshold once his eyes traveled inside. And once my own brown eyes peered around Greg's scrawny build, I could see just why he couldn't make it either. None of us could or would be able to.

Often, I would praise my great eyesight in the darkest of places, but now I wanted nothing more than to get rid of it. Inside of the walk-in freezer, corpses of Rotweiler dogs torn to shreds were scattered about or hung up by their hind legs on hooks from the ceiling, glazed over eyes staring at all of us pleadingly and accusingly. Clumps of ice stuck to their matted fur and clogged their noses. One of the corpses was sprawled out less than a foot away from Greg's feet, his front paws fractured and the nails non-existent, bloody stubs taking their place.

_This is inhumane._

As an animal rights activist, I found I couldn't witness this scene much longer, and neither could half of the team. Nick finally stepped forward to gently pull the petrified Greg Sanders away from the gruesome sight and erased the actual sight from in front of our eyes, but not actually taking it out of our branded mind's eye.

Leading Greg away from the refrigerator, there was a silence that could've drove a dead person insane. It left the living uncomfortably numb, silently pleading for the image to remove itself from every recess it had hid in the space of our minds. No such luck.

One hand was on my hip to help with stabilizing my trembling body while the other aided in keeping the bile that was rising in my mouth. An infinite number of the bloodiest crime scenes that I'd witnessed in California and here in Vegas could not have prepared me for that sight. It only instilled shock inside of me for a moment that I saw an expression I never figured I'd see flash across Catherine's face after Nick's capture. Not disbelief, but horror. Sick and twisted horror.

No one said anything for several long and grueling moments. It was only Brass who first cleared his throat, who had the courage to disrupt the suffocating silence we were wrapped in. But what he said certainly didn't put anyone else in the room at ease, despite his best try. "Well, I heard that dog is considered a delicacy in China." Instead of his usual dry humor, the homicide captain seemed to speak with an uneasy tone.

"That's just sick!" Warrick exclaimed, finally turning to envelope a certain Catherine Willows into his arms, who looked like she definitely needed it.

_Any sight that can get Catherine to seek shelter in someone's arms,_ I began the thought, taking in the sight of Catherine burying her head into Warrick's chest just before turning my back to the door, h_as got to be one of the worst this **world** has ever seen._

Wandering off on my own, I moved into the dining room, hugging the walls for guidance as I went. Relief flooded me when the moonlight managed to light bits and sections of the room in the dining hall. Extinguishing the darkness helped rid the thought of those poor Rotweilers stuck inside that refrigerator, but that didn't mean that the nauseous feeling was gone with it. Maneuvering around several long and Mahogany wood tables, I positioned myself right in front of the first window I came in contact with. Not only where the windows barred from the outside, but the inside as well. Slender fingers wrapped around the dead cold metal pipes, peering out into the lightly foggy area around the house.

Woods. And the two little girls. That was what I saw, and yet, I was rooted to my spot with wide eyes concentrated on them. Under their sinister scrutiny, I felt myself shrinking down to the vulnerable age of seven or eight. There was just something about those beady black eyes that reminded me so much of...

I shook my head and refocused my vision back to the place where I'd seen the girls. They weren't there anymore, to my relief. I released the bars from the death grip I had involuntarily obtained during my hallucination, lightly shaking them loose and flexing them afterwards. It _had_ been an illusion, right? This whole night has to be an illusion. Correct? Eight-year-old girls are not supposed to have the ability to pull rock and stone from the Earth and form a large boulder without any tools and not using their hands. Hell, nobody is supposed to have that ability!

Closing my eyes, I tried to regain my sense of self. I'd seemed to have misplaced it since that... event back at the crime scene. _I know... Any minute now, I'm going to wake up either in my bed or in Nick's car as he's driving me to the crime scene, and I'm going to burst out laughing at the stupidity of this nightmare. I just know it._

But while I was trying to find my sense of self, someone else found me. Slowly approaching me from behind, I felt that overwhelming presence of another person, but at this point, I couldn't tell you if the person meant harm to me or not. So, it was to no one's surprise but the person who was creeping up behind me that I had hastily turned about and seized the outreaching hand with both of mine. Automatically, like they taught in self defense classes, I twisted the wrist that was attached to the hand and put the person into a subdued stance up against the wall.

_Wait... There's no other actual "people" in this house beside the team, Brass, and me._ The non-impulsive side, the thoughtful side of my mind spoke.

That's when I realized that I had Grissom pinned up against the wall.

The blood rushed all the way up my neck and settled in my cheeks, causing them to glow a bright red. I quickly released Grissom from his spot on the wall, getting off of him as I had also used what body weight I had to pressure him against the wall. Rubbing his once seized wrist tenderly with his other hand, I could make out the faint smile he sent my way. It was half forced, half genuine, but that didn't stop the flip my stomach was doing to know that I was the recipient of it.

"No need to get defensive. It's just me." Grissom pulled his hands up guarded gesture. "I have to say, I won't worry too much later about you being able to take care of yourself."

Memories of the Strip Strangler case popped up all over the place in my mind's eye. Images of a very protective Gil Grissom were accompanied with it, which brought about a smile of my own. On one hand, I _had_ been slightly flattered that Grissom was concerned with me, but the other part of me took it to great offense at the fact that he hadn't trusted me at the time.

_I see time changes many things._ I thought ruefully to myself.

"I am _so_ sorry, Grissom." I choked out, remembering what I had impulsively done. "Is your hand all right?"

He nodded, and nothing more was said until a beat later. "I think everyone is recovering about now. We really need to find a place to set up for the night. Possibly even new clothes to get you, Nick, and myself out of these wet clothes."

Dipping my head in agreement, I waited for Grissom to pass by me, leading me back into the other room with the others. Catherine seemed to have composed herself back to her typical self, though she still stood close by Warrick who had a hand splayed across the small of her back, rubbing comfort circles into it from what I could see. Greg had yet to recover from his shock while Nick and Brass stood like statues.

Taking a stand beside Grissom, I looked over to him as he spoke. "The upstairs."

"What about it?" Brass asked with a shrug of one shoulder.

"It's got to be where this Dr. Killjoy kept his own private sleeping quarters. I doubt he slept with the patients in their cells – which I'll also take a guess and say that those are downstairs – and I also find it highly doubtful that he left the island every night just to go back to a house inland." Grissom reasoned out loud. "So, that only leaves the upstairs."

Another silence. So much silence. So silent, we could hear the mansion creak and groan the pain that it felt and experienced within its walls for countless years. Doubtlessly, the noises accounted for the uneasy shifting among us all.

"And let's make our search quick." Grissom added before he lead the way out of the kitchen and into yet another hall.

**TBC...

* * *

**

A/N2: Hmm? Hmm? (Yeah, I told you the scene with the dogs was gruesome. No worries, though... I am not a sick bastard that gets a kick outta writing stuff like that.) There's more to those lil' girls than meets the eye. But I'll get into them later. For now, hit me up with a review! Y'know I love 'em!

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: No killing the authoress for the long wait!

Disclaimer: Me-eo no ownie-o. So-eo Peace-eo...

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

Greg's POV:

I was still numb all over from the scene inside the refrigerator. Who could possibly do that to an animal? And if they were capable of doing that to what I felt were once innocent enough dogs, what's that to say about what they could do to humans? If all the stories were true about Dr. Killjoy and this mansion, then it was three of the inmates that helped him with his experimentations on animals. Sick bastards.

I felt better once we were out of the kitchen and dining area and out in another foyer, housing two stairways – one leading upstairs and the other leading downstairs. I stood alone at the top of the stairway leading down, peering into a blacker darkness than the one that covered us all to begin with. It was like it was two different worlds I was standing between. The hallway down to the basement carried up a strong updraft of purely cold air and the fact that the sides were lined with granite stones didn't help the insulation problem either. I tested the creaky wooden stairs cautiously with the toe of my left foot, applying steady pressure to see if it'd give or not.

It stayed.

_Well, for Sara, Catherine and me it might. Maybe even Nick. But these stairs will leave Grissom, Brass, and Warrick as the sacrificial lambs if they try to go down 'em._ I thought, bringing my foot back up to the carpeted area.

Now I just stood there, blank as the abyss in front of me. I _still_ couldn't get the sight of those dogs out of my head.

_Suck it up Sanders... You've seen **way** worse on the cold slab back at the lab._ I scolded myself with a showing scowl on my face.

It was pretty quiet behind me, but I hadn't heard anyone going up the stairs. If these stairs to the basement were creaky, all the other ones had to be too. I would've heard them if they left, right? Better yet, they wouldn't just leave me behind, would they?

"_You're the youngest... They could leave you behind for bait and give them a head start."_ This time, the voice wasn't my own inside my head. It was high pitched, feminine, and childish. It was those damn girls again. _"Just like they did in the woods when you were getting attacked..."_

Mentally shaking the voices out of my head, I held back from yelling at the voices to shut up. Not only would it make me _feel_ crazy, but it'd make me look crazy to my friends behind me. And they _were_ my friends. They didn't and _wouldn't_ abandon me.

Right?

Shaking my head slightly, as if it was getting rid of the thought out my hears like my Mom used to make me do with the water after I was done swimming in the pool, I continued to just stand there. Staring down into the cellar, but not really seeing anything at all. In the very back of my head, I was beginning to block out the petite voices that plagued my mind.

"Hey, you okay?" A soft and sympathetic voice of Catherine Willows asked me in a whisper as she came to stand by me at the top of the stairs.

I didn't outwardly respond to Catherine's question, but reality clicked in my mind and killed all the voices. I was beyond relieved that someone brought me back to this realm. And with a gentle touch of her hand to my shoulder, I turned slightly away from the doorway to see Catherine's creased eyebrows and concerned motherly blue eyes. I couldn't help but pull out a sheepish grin onto my lips like I'd just gotten caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I half lied. "Just thinking."

A firmer grip was applied on my shoulder, feeling slightly like a massage at this moment. Tugging on the door had made both of my arms and shoulder stiffer than the DBs back inland in their rigor mortis. I relaxed under the blonde's grip, and I could see her smile out of the corner of my eye.

"Don't worry Greg, we all saw the same thing. Let's just take care of ourselves, all right?" Catherine coaxed me away from the doorway, slightly shutting it behind her. "It'll all be over soon."

Now, to match the sheepish smile, a skeptical and light chuckle passed through the crack of my lips. "Let's at least hope so."

Catherine ushered me back to the group. My friends. My pseudo family. I chuckled at how I practically considered Warrick and Nick to be my older brothers as they pulled me between the two of them, Warrick ruffling my hair to try and ease the tension that must've been radiating off of me. Nick offered me one of his pats on the back, a sign he gave for reassurance. Another hand found its way to my shoulder, but it wasn't Catherine's. It was Sara's. It was easy to tell, even in the dark, that she was forcing a smile out just for my benefits, but I accepted it nonetheless. Sara had grown to be my sister, in a way, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like her at least a little more than a friend even now. But the chances of that happening? Slim to nothing. Because there was Grissom, the Big Guy, Bug Man, that was like the awkward father figure to the group, with the exception to Sara, that is. And Catherine fit in perfectly as the mother figure to this weird family we had, with the exception to Warrick.

_Anyone with eyes... That's all I've got to say._ I said with a roll of my eyes as I brushed away Warrick's hand with a bit more realistic smile on my face.

And Brass... Heh... He was that uncle that you're never sure if you should invite him to dinner or a family reunion, but you end up inviting him anyways because you know it just wouldn't be a party without him. And would I ever say any of this out loud to him? Not even on my death bed, on my last breath.

"All right, all right. I'm back, I'm back. I'm not turning astronaut yet..." I said when even Grissom gave me that cocked eyebrow look he gave everyone when he was silently asking an obvious question.

"Y'know Greggo, you're lucky Cath was the one who went to get you out of La-La Land..." Nick commented as we began to climb the steps upwards. "Warrick was getting irritated after about fifteen minutes."

"_Fifteen_? How long was I out of it?" My eyes grew as I said my first word.

"Twenty-five minutes." Everyone declared in unison, with the exception of Grissom.

"To be exact, twenty-six minutes and fifty-seven seconds." Grissom chimed in, just mounting the first step at the very bottom right after Sara.

We all paused, mid-step on the stairwell to look down at him as he looked up at all of us. No words were needed for our stare, and a quick response was said after Grissom held up his left wrist to show a watch adorning it that probably none of us had noticed until now.

"Waterproof watch." Grissom explained. "Just got it."

"Don't tell me this was a consolation prize for not winning in one of your cockroach racing tournaments." Brass said after squinting hard in the darkness to see the face of the watch Grissom showed us. "I see crickets and grasshoppers on the face of it."

Grissom pulled back his arm with a slightly annoyed look at the homicide detective. "No Jim. My nephew sent it to me in the mail as a late birthday present. He's only turning eight and he likes insects too, so give him a break."

"Oh great. Gil has a fan club. Population as of now: two." Catherine quipped, throwing a quick glance in Sara's direction.

And, as always, everyone got it except for the two in question.

I am the baby of the group, but at least I'm not the blindest.

* * *

Warrick's POV:

I let out a long whistle when I stepped into the second room to the right in the hallway we arrived in at the top of the stairs that seemed to go on forever. I would've been completely satisfied to keep guard of my own self, and possibly one more companion in this room by myself. But I'm not naming any names.

The room itself was small, but it looked fit for a very small king. Red satin bed sheets on a queen sized bed with golden embroidery in the sheets. Granted, all of the roses and plants that were placed around the room were dead from the lack of care, the whole room still held a degree of elegance suited for royalty. Paintings I'm sure Grissom could name with only half his sight lined the walls for the previous person's viewing pleasure. Mint condition bureaus and dressers, albeit dusty, remained in the room as well. A large, and probably heavy glass mirror was suspended above one of the low rising dressers, which also had a jewelry box sitting right in the middle of it. Nothing else, just a small Oak wood jewelry box. Entering the room a little bit more, hearing everyone else searching the other doors nearby, I approached the small object and reached out for it, brushing off the settled dust off the top.

Coughing and gagging from the dust that I inhaled accidentally, I pushed my lung problem so that Sara wouldn't come in calling me Black Lung again like she did a couple years back. Rolling my eyes, I lifted the top of the jewelry box open, seeing mint condition necklaces, rings, and bracelets inside. If a light were to be flashed over them, I'm absolutely sure that my vision would be reduced to nothing. Picking up the first necklace – a dainty, platinum chain that had a blue colored diamond crystal suspended at the bottom – I couldn't help but let my mind wander.

_God, the blue in the diamond would bring out the blue in her eyes._ Spinning the necklace straight as gently as possible, I watched the diamond intensely. _This would look perfect on her._

"_So take it. Mrs. Killjoy doesn't need it anymore."_ A voice from the outside responded to my inner thoughts.

Pivoting quickly in my spot, I squinted through the dark to see if anyone was there. The voice... More like voices, once I thought of it... They sounded familiar. And it wasn't any voice that comforted me. It did the opposite.

"_Don't be afraid... We don't want to hurt **you**."_ Only one voice responded to my thoughts this time. Feminine. Young. Simply evil. _"We **like** you."_

"Who's there?" I asked to the room, placing the necklace down on the dresser lightly.

"_Don't put that down. Keep it."_ Another voice, the same as the first one, though a little more distinguished in a bit deeper voice. _"Mrs. Killjoy would probably want you to have it. After all you **do** look like... **him**..."_

My eyebrows creased in pure confusion. Who was "him"? Nonetheless, I complied with the voices by picking necklace back up, still looking at every inch of the room, from the floor to the ceiling and side to side. Amazingly, I didn't feel the least bit scared as I did violated and crazy.

"_Good."_ The unison between the two voices came back when I fisted my right hand around the necklace and diamond. _"Now go give it to that blonde headed woman. It'll be about the **only** thing that'll protect her from everything else in this house. Even **with** you by her side constantly."_

Cracking open my hand slightly to look at the diamond once more, something about what the voices just said struck a funny cord inside of me. The voice could easily be described as sinister, and yet they were trying to help some that I – well, let's admit it – care deeply about. Why?

"Why are you tryna help protect Catherine?" My booming voice interrogated these apparitions.

"_Because we don't want to see you cry over her again..."_ They responded, like it was the obvious answer written in millions of text books across the world. _"Remember?"_

The next thing that happened is what really instilled fear in me. It was almost like a movie was being played on the wall before my eyes on one of those projectors that were used in movie theaters. And I didn't even have to watch this movie half way to know how it was going to end. After all, I was the main actor in it.

* * *

_I remembered that night – well, early morning – too damn well. Even someone who wasn't there and saw this could see that I had been drinking more than just a few beers before then. I was back in my old house about four or five years back, just shortly after Sara's addition to the team after Holly Gribbs. I was pacing inside my old bedroom in a pissed off stride, mumbling something incoherent and slurred._

_It had been the guilt of Holly Gribbs's death that had driven me to the casino, the sight of Eddie Willows with a random girl that wasn't Catherine that drove me all the way to the local bar, and the jealousy toward Eddie that had me brooding at home on my day off. But the thing that had gotten me up into the pacing mode was the phone call I had gotten from Catherine, asking me to come to her house to get Eddie out. _

_Back then, Eddie was abusive when he wanted to be, but it was nothing that Catherine couldn't handle, normally. It had just been one of those times that night, and God had I gotten frustrated with Nick for not arriving sooner. I wasn't drunk enough to be disabled from a fight, but I was drunk enough to not want to drive._

_That's when all my patience broke like a twig. My fist rounded about and smashed into the wall, leaving a dent the size of California in it. Unknown to me, Nick had just let himself inside my house and had started calling out my name. _

"Hey! 'Rick! Buddy, where are ya?" His Texan accent had relieved the younger me and set him off at the same time.

"_Dammit! About time!" Snatching the coat off the bed, the younger me had exited the room without so much as shut a light off._

"_Whoa whoa whoa." In the living room, just as I was about to go out the front door, Nick held me back with his hands against my shoulders. "Warrick, what's up, man? Have you been drinking?"_

"_No time for questions Nick! Just get me to Catherine's before I drive my damn self." I commanded, pushing past Nick and out the door._

_Nick had been left in no other position other than to comply._

I winced, in the present time at how sharp I had been at my best friend. I still, to this day, couldn't remember all of that night, even with Catherine telling me. And I definitely hadn't remembered snapping at Nick. It was my first intention to apologize to him for that when we met back up again.

_Then came the arrival at Catherine's house. It was Hell from there. There was fists swung, faces hit, guts sucker punched, and more than a handful of threats of a next time as Eddie drove off. Being drunk and fighting, **did** have it's benefits, but I could remember the next morning more was hurting than just the typical hangover. Catherine and a younger version of Lindsey thanked me, and Catherine had gone so far as to grace me with a kiss on the cheek. _

"_Are you sure you don't want me to stay? In case he comes back?" The younger Warrick Brown asked her._

"_He's not going to come back. He never does." Catherine shook her head. "Thank you Warrick. A life saver as always."_

_One of those priceless smiles of her and suddenly the whole night was worth it. I had called Nick to come and pick me back up since I'd told him not to wait around for me. Nick, of course, had questioned me about why I had a split lip and a small, developing bruise on my jaw. In my drunken state, I told him the truth and told him just to drive me to the closest CVS for aspirin and then home. Still being the good person Nick has always been, he even went so far as to buy the aspirin for me. Next thing I knew, I was back in my room again, laying down on my old bed, staring at the ceiling aimlessly._

"_Why won't she just give me a shot?" The younger me asked to no one but himself. "I'm ten times better than Eddie, and I've been more of a Father to Lindsey than he'll ever be to her."_

_Clutching the baseball that was placed next to me, I abruptly whipped it over at my stereo system, and to my misfortune, the one song I **didn't** want to hear began to play on the CD that was on pause._

"_It's amazing how you knock me off my feet  
Every time you come around me I get weak  
__Nobody ever made me feel this way  
__You kiss my lips and you take my breath away  
__So...  
I wanna know what turns you on  
__(I'd like to know)  
__So I can be all that and more..."_

_The frustration was easily building up in the younger me, and with the combination of the alcohol in his system as well as the situation he just walked away from, even now I couldn't blame myself for breaking down just once. The song hadn't been helping me either, but at the time, I had been too tired to turn it off. So I had sat there listening..._

"_Girl he never understood what you were worth  
__And he never took the time to make it work  
__(You deserve more love than that)  
__Baby I'm the kinda man who shows concern...  
__Anyway that I can please you, let me learn..."_

_The welling up tears spilled out as the song went into the second chorus. I had cried because the lyrics were hitting too close to home for Catherine and mine's situation. The tears were slipping out with ease, and I didn't make a sound as more surfaced. I reached up once to wipe away one out of a whole river of tears before I reached behind me to turn off my lights, falling asleep with that song on repeat.

* * *

_

The vision faded away and I was left in darkness again, stunned. Not a new surprise, but just a reminder of a night I never wanted to recall on my own again. Gripping the occupied hand closed around the necklace again, I slipped it into my pant's pocket and began to walk out of that Godforsaken room again. Suddenly, the idea of spending the night in that room with Catherine didn't seem as great as it did before.

After just making it over the threshold into the hallway, I heard the final voice faintly as I slammed the door behind me. _"Good boy."_ Then came the cackle I _knew_ I recognized.

The two little girls.

* * *

Grissom's POV:

I was already on my third room, and none of them looked very promising to hold all of us inside comfortably. Hell, they didn't even look comfortable for just _one_ person to stay in, let alone seven. The reason simply being that two out of three of them were not meant for relaxation purposes, but for obviously some sick and twisted torture session involving an electrically charged wire cage, lined with sharp daggers facing the inside of the cage. I made sure that I, and solely I, saw that room. After what we saw with the Rotweilers in the refrigerator, I figured it wouldn't be helping anyone if they saw a young woman, no older than Greg's age, electrocuted and stuck to the wire cage with daggers piercing every part of her body. Out of everyone beside Jim in this group, I was the most experienced, and even I didn't want to venture back into that room, knowing that the eyes of that woman would be greeting me.

_Dead eyes tell no lies._ I told myself as I sighed in defeat, closing the door to the third room, which was simply an empty utility closet. _And for once, I wish that those dead eyes **were** telling me lies for the truth is too gruesome to know._

"We came up with absolutely nothing. How about you? Any luck with that room?" Jim sighed, approaching me with Nick at his side and indicating the utility closet.

"Unless you want to cram into a utility closet then, no, I haven't found a good room yet." Leaning against the outside door frame, I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling my migraine rear its ugly head.

"So, whatcha think now Boss Man? There's probably enough rooms to fit two or three to a room, why don't we just go with that?" Nick proposed, obviously spotting out the rooms he knew were bedrooms with his eyes.

"And just how are we going to decide on who's sleeping with who? Draw sticks?" Greg questioned, stressing the difficulty in the situation, adding himself to our slowly growing group.

"Hey, great idea Gregor!" Warrick claimed, coming up from behind Greg, promptly plucking a hair out of Greg's scalp, swiftly and not so painlessly.

Greg let out a yelp that echoed through the whole house, making us all tense up at the sudden noise. We had all been talking tones equivalent to whispers. Greg covered his head protectively, scowling backwards at Warrick, but forgot to defend himself from Nick's plucking fingers. Except this time, he was partly prepared for the sharp pain and he repressed his yelp. I sent both of the men a warning look through the dark which they both got immediately as they dropped Greg's hair follicles on the floor ashamedly.

Hearing more approaching footfalls, the five of us turned to the dead end of the hallway to see a lean figure approaching us. It was clearly either Catherine or Sara; For one because they were the only ones missing at the moment, and for two, they were the only ones that would have a lean figure besides Greg, who was next to me now. But since I noticed the height of the figure was taller by a couple inches than I knew Catherine was at, I couldn't wipe off the smirk on my face as I knew it was Sara approaching. She was also fiddling with something circular and long in her hands, preoccupying her.

It didn't take too much time to realize what she'd found when we were all blinded by the light from the Maglite. Squinting my eyes shut, I covered my eyes with my forearm, refusing to look away from her. Sara was blinking several times rapidly to adjust to the light change, as were we all before she turned back to us.

"Well, once again, the Great Sara Sidle makes the great discovery of the novel ideas." I quipped her, getting off of the door jamb. "Where did you find it?"

"Last door to the left." Sara coughed up, dust from all over this house aggravating her lungs. "It's like a storage closet for every emergency you could imagine would happen inside an insane asylum. Flashlights, shotguns, shotgun ammo, first aid kits, batteries, non-perishable foods that _might_ be still good, and best of all," Sara took a moment to pause and dig something out from her pant pocket. She removed numerous books of matches. "I have also discovered a fire source as well." She bit back a smile.

"Just a pioneer on this, aren't you Sar?" Nick teased, looking down toward Sara's waist suddenly. "But what's with the belts?"

Having to peer down herself, an expression of acknowledgment crossed her face as she undid one of the utility belts attached to her waist. Tossing it over to me unexpectedly, I caught it, fumbling with it to keep a grip on it. I tilted my head to the side slightly at her in wonderment. Why did she dig out utility belts?

That's when I noticed the countless loops around the belt. Perfect size to hold the wine bottles that we'd left downstairs by the front door. More importantly, a place to hold the Molotov Cocktails when we made them into just that. I broke out into another smile at my protégé at her future planning.

"I'm going down now to fit as many wine bottles as I can on this belt." Sara stated, but it was directly toward me as I buckled the belt around my waist as well. "You going to help me?"

"Wouldn't imagine doing anything other than that." Replying, we made our way back to the stairwell leading to ground level, submerging our friends back into darkness. Truth be told, I felt much more vulnerable with the lack of size in the group, but it was worth it.

Or at least, it was worth it until we ran into trouble once we were well away from our friends and back in the kitchen.

**TBC...

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**

A/N: I realized that when I wrote this chapter it was fourteen pages, so I've decided to cut it in half. So please, if you would, comment this chapter then continue on to the next chapter to further immerse yourself into this twisted story. And as for your suggestion on "monsters" people, I am bringing every single one of them into consideration and am currently plotting how to incorporate them. I've said my piece, so...

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Read on, my readers, read on! And immense thanks to everyone that's a reader AND a reviewer! (Well, sorry all of y'all that read and don't review! I don't know who you are or if you exist! But at any rate, thank you too:-))

Disclaimer: See last chapter..

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

Nick's POV:

"C'mon Greg..." I spoke after Grissom and Sara's back's inched out of sight down the stairs. "Let's go check out that utility closet."

"Got it."

We left Warrick and Brass standing still in the hallway, venturing toward the small closet at the end of the hall. Walking into the spacious closet, I found right by the entrance a line of Maglites like Sara had blinded all of us just seconds ago, suspended on rusty nails on the wall. Switching the flashlight on, I confirmed Sara's statement about us being set for almost any emergency we might face. Guns, first-aid, food, blankets and pillows, and batteries. The only thing it didn't have was sleeping bags for all of us, but they were still supplied. Four of them to be exact.

"Whew!" Greg exclaimed from behind me, glancing over my shoulder curiously. "This is like buried treasure for us!"

"Yeah, now if only we could find a big enough room to fit all of us in..." I said, peering back out into hall, seeing that Catherine had joined the group of Warrick and Brass, looking like she came back empty handed like the rest of us.

"I'm telling you, let's just put two of us to a room and rotate vigils within the room." Greg declared, crossing his arms and settling into the wall beside us like it was a bed. "There's certainly enough rooms, and there's only seven of us. One room of three, two of two."

Sticking my head back inside the room, I looked over at the youngest of our group looking smug up against the wall for what he thought was a clever idea. Reaching beside him for the flashlights, I shoved two of them into his chest with my wide smile and instructed him to help me carry the essentials back to the group.

As we were adding onto the growing piles of blankets and pillows and sleeping bags, along with one or two first aid kits, I turned to Greg as he bumped into me in the process of reaching for a sleeping bag well over his head. I jumped up and tried to jostle it just enough to make it fall, but to no avail.

"So, I bet I know who you already wanna be stuck in a room with..." I prompted, trying again to get the sleeping bag down.

"Oh really? Who?" Greg took the bait, perking an eyebrow at me.

"A certain Miss Sara Sidle!" A smile and low chuckle was distributed between us in the utility closet. "C'mon, I'm not blind. I know you still like her."

"Nah, I'm over it." Greg fiddled with a tag dangling off a heavy quilt he was struggling to keep up off the ground. "That was just my hormones all those years ago, but I've grown up since then." Greg took a breath that didn't necessarily sound like a happy one. "Besides, I can't be the _only_ one that sees the looks between Grissom and Sara, can I?"

"Everyone can see it besides them." My smile was forced this time, feeling the Greg's pain. He wasn't the only one who felt the burns of a one-sided love. Clapping a hand over his hollow back with a little bit of difficulty, I continued. "No worries though... You'll find someone out there for you eventually. Who knows? Maybe it'll be Sara." I tried to remain optimistic for my good friend, no matter how unlike it seemed to me.

"You really think so?" Hope sprung in his voice almost innocently.

Internally, I winced. I winced for the hope in him. Not that hope was a bad thing, but just the simple fact that if you cling to hope a little too much, you will be brought down by reality sooner or later. And yet, I couldn't keep myself from replying in the ambiguous response of, "You never know, G."

The sleeping bag Greg and I had been working at retrieving fell right after my statement, bouncing off my head like a Super Ball, as if it was punishing me for feeding Greg false hope like it was poison. Greg bent down and lifted the offending object up and exited the closet in front of me, with a slight bounce in his limp as we returned to our group.

* * *

Catherine's POV:

It occurred to me that I was shivering from an incoming draft only when I saw Greg and Nick approaching us with blankets and sleeping bags. It took everything in me to not attack Greg to get the extremely large quilt that was clearly obstructing his view. He was using the wall for guidance since all of the materials he was carrying towered over his head. But instead, I simply helped level the pile down to size. Or at least to the point where he could see.

"Phew, it really is a jackpot in there!" Warrick exclaimed, helping level Nick's pile as well.

"Yeah, tell me about it!" Nick shared the same enthusiasm, tossing Brass a flashlight and handing another one to Warrick, keeping one for himself. "And there's still more! I just got what we needed to sleep..."

"I say we just break off into separate rooms and leave whatever's left to Griss and Sara." Warrick suggested, his deep voice even more muffled from the pillow that was stuffed in his face.

"Hey, now c'mon." Brass said after a moment of fidgeting with the flashlight to turn it on. "Let's stick close to departmental procedures, can we?"

"Since when has the demon of Ecklie possessed you?" Greg quipped over his own still bulbous pile. "Nothing about this situation actually goes by departmental procedures, if you think about it. Technically, we're breaking and entering, trespassing, leaving a scene unofficially while still on the clock... So, what's one more to the list?"

"And who's fault is it that we're breaking about half of those procedures?" I chirped in upon hearing the breaking and entering, trespassing part.

"Mine." Greg replied shortly. "But that's beside the point. This is survival."

A small disagreement was pursued by Greg and Brass, with Warrick and Nick trying to intervene. I blocked them all out while I thought about it. And to put it frankly, I agreed with Greg. Not the part about what another minor departmental misprocedure could do when we've already broken several, but just the idea. If we _did_ follow the rules, that would require me and Sara to be in one room. And while I respected Sara as a colleague and as a somewhat friend, I won't rest assured with only having Sara watching guard while I slept. I don't care how many self-defense classes she took. I would rather try my luck with Warrick or Nick. Perhaps Warrick more than Nick, but that was due to pure size. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.

"You know, for once, I'm going to side with Greg." I suddenly spoke up, halting all bickering that had been commencing beforehand. "I'd much rather get a room with one of the guys than with Sara." At the raised eyebrows that were directed at me, looks that were taking offense to my words, I amended my statement. "Well, how many of you would trust having Sara stand guard in this house for you while you sleep?"

"I would..." Greg grumbled inaudibly from where he stood.

"Which is why you're going to be the easiest to place in a room." Warrick claimed with a snicker.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!" Greg fumed, the accusations being placed on him destroying whatever self-image he had of himself before.

"You're not exactly the most defensive of the group, G." Nick piped up, putting it as gently as possible for poor Greg. "And in this house, it doesn't hurt to have someone who can defend you, no offense."

"A lot taken!" I'm pretty sure that if it wasn't for the sleeping bags, first aid kits, and blankets, Greg would've been crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

The humor died down in the group quickly as the minutes flew by. The minutes flew by but Gil and Sara didn't come back. No one else in the group seemed to noticed as they soon dispersed into claiming their rooms. We had reasoned that Nick, Greg, and Brass would share the biggest room, Warrick and I would occupy the room across from it, and Grissom and Sara would take the room adjacent to my room. There had been a lot of objections to this, mainly from Greg and Brass however. Brass complained that for one: He could handle himself in his separate room. And for two: He didn't think he could last a night sleeping in the same room as Greg, who we all knew snored as loud as a bear in hibernation. Greg complained about why he got stuck in the three person group, why Gil and Sara got to share a room. It had been easier to satisfy Brass with the room arrangements than it was Greg. For our youngest CSI, we had to put in every other possibility.

Though the room that the three of them were going to be taking up _was_ big, it wasn't big enough to put all seven of us inside comfortably. Greg had profusely refused to room with just Grissom or Brass alone. Then it came down to shifting Brass around from room to room, with just Nick and Greg in one room. There had been some type of agreement that by sticking Brass in with Gil and Sara, that it could work, but that didn't work to Greg's benefit either. I knew his aim was to get paired up with Sara, and Sara alone. Not for his hormone driven mind, but simply because it was clear that Greg enjoyed Sara's company one-on-one. But the whole argument was put to rest when even Brass admitted that he probably needed to be in a three person room because of his exhaustion.

_Well, he didn't necessarily say he was tired, but..._ Glancing over at the homicide detective, I saw the droop in his eyelids and the sagging of his shoulders. _It's beyond obvious._

But now it was dawning on me that Gil and Sara hadn't even come back yet.

"You said that Gil and Sara only went down to get their wine bottles, right?" I questioned Warrick as we stalked into the bedroom we were designated to.

Warrick hummed in response, the vibrations tracing through my body through the stiff air. I smirked at that. "Yeah, now that you mention it, where _are_ they? Shouldn't take that long."

"Maybe we should go check on them, War." Nick called from across the hall, eavesdropping on our conversation. "Make sure they're all right."

"All right... Just give me a second." Warrick called, dumping his load on the queen sized bed to the right side.

A new wave of goosebumps traveled over me as a stronger draft rushed passed me. And as it brushed past Warrick, it seemed to freeze him right in place for about a minute. Finally, he peered discreetly into his fisted hand before enclosing whatever he was looking at into the protective shell of his fist again. He turned to me with a peculiar glint in his beautiful hazel eyes. Warrick drew close to me, opening his hand again to reveal a necklace that mirrored his eyes in beauty. At the end of the platinum chain was a blue shaded diamond that sparkled even in the darkness. My hazel eyed wonder added no words as he delicately unclasped the necklace and adorned my neck with the necklace. I was in dumb awe with the necklace itself and the randomness of the situation.

_Where did he get this?_

"Happy late birthday, Cath..." His voice faded out as I was brought back to a memory of that saying.

* * *

_Flashback_

_Warrick stood sheepishly in Grissom's office, taking in the scene before him. Grissom hadn't quite gone out to the nearest Grand Union to buy me a cake, or called a catering service for something extravagant, so he had settled for a muffin with a candle stuck in it. I figured that since it was Grissom, you had to take what you got with him, but I was pretty sure Greg had convinced him to not delay the silent celebration in the office and just settle for a muffin for now._

_Warrick watched from the doorway as every presented me with a small gift and card, but all the while, we were wary of the approach of a certain lab director named Conrad Ecklie. From the bags underneath Warrick's eyes and guilt ridden expressions he was putting on that handsome face of his, I knew that he had forgotten about my birthday completely. Part of my female ego was bruised by that revelation that Warrick Brown had** forgotten** my birthday, but the rest of me stuck of for him and cut him some slack. He **was** pulling a triple as of today, and from the file in his hands, it looked like he was on his way to consult with Grissom about the case when he ran into this._

_Sara had been the one to pick up Ecklie on her keen radar, so we were all quick to disperse from Grissom's office. Nick and Greg took off down the hall toward the A/V lab, faking a story as Ecklie passed about new evidence that had been found at the scene. Sara got an actual and legitimate call from Hodges over in Trace, while Warrick stuck back to question Grissom about whatever was concerning his case. He lowered his head as I sauntered past him, on my away to the locker room to put all of my gifts somewhere safe._

_After safely tucking the gift from Nick – one of the newest CDs from George Strait – I turned to see the one gift I knew I wouldn't be getting for Christmas, Warrick Brown. Sadly enough, it was the one gift I wanted more than anything else. He still had that sheepish look on his face for forgetting about my birthday and I couldn't help but grin at his guilty expression as I made a move to exit the locker room. Warrick began stuttering out his typical, "I'm sorry"'s and explanations as to why he would forget about my birthday, but I stopped him before he made a fool out of himself. A very **sexy** fool, but a fool nonetheless._

"_Hey, it's okay." I raised my hand to halt his oncoming words. "If it means that much to you, just give me a gift later. A late birthday gift. Trust me, I won't mind."_

_Warrick had rewarded me with one of those throaty chuckles, pressing himself firm against the doorframe, allowing me to slide out with ease. Making my way down the corridor, I threw him a look goodbye over my shoulder, but I gave into just one wink when I rounded the corner. I figured I'd be going to Hell for a lot of things, so what was one more sin going to do to me?_

_End of Flashback

* * *

_

"Wow, Warrick... This is..." My mouth was open, ready to expel any words I could come up with... _If_ I could come up with them.

"Perfect for you?" Warrick finished slyly, stepping back to examine the "finished piece" in full. "I thought so too."

I didn't know whether to throw my arms around him and kiss him or to smack him clear across the face for the given fact. Albeit, I hated the given fact, but it was a fact nonetheless. "Warrick... Hold on. You've got a wife..." It made me sick to even say. "You're married."

"What? Tina?" Warrick ducked his head slightly and peered up at me with questioning eyebrows raised. "She's filing for a divorce, Cath. And frankly, I couldn't feel happier."

Somehow, I found doubt that Warrick wasn't affected by the divorce, and yet, I was relieved myself by his words, no matter how true or false they might have been. It sparked the hope I had lost the day I'd found out he'd gotten married over night; Sparked the hope that a personal fantasy of mine didn't have to necessarily die, but just be postponed.

But reality was forever as much a pain in the ass as Lindsey's rebellion is. "Wait Warrick..." Nervousness spilled over into my lap, not wanting to make the wrong move here. "You might be happier, but maybe we should wait on any advancements in _our_ relationships before your other relationship is settled."

A glint entered his eyes that was noticeable even in the dark. A word began to roll off his mouth but it quickly died in the darkness as the glint disappeared. Not knowing what to expect out of Warrick, I took a step away for a precaution.

"Warrick?"

In a spur, like a dog just coming out of a bath, Warrick shook his head – like there was something in his mind that he was trying to rid himself of. Walking away slightly and rubbing his large hands over his face, a smile broke out on my face realizing that he was tired and this subject was getting to him just as much as it was getting to me. Maybe the day he got married, some of _his_ fantasies died too...

"You all right now?"

"Yeah..." Turning back to me with his hands on his waist and slightly hunched over. "This damn house is getting to me."

"Don't let it." I shrugged. "We'll be out of here by sunrise."

Still feeling the colored diamond suspended on my neck, I felt obligated to thank Warrick for my unexpected gift. It was all one fluid movement where I stepped forward and enveloped him in a hug around the neck.

"I'll take this as a 'thank you'." Warrick chuckled softly.

With his arms hugging me back, I smiled into his shoulder. "And I'll take this as a 'you're welcome'."

But as always, something or some unknown force decided to work against me and cut one of the best moments in my life short. Though, it was obvious that this situation was completely about Warrick and myself, or else we wouldn't be standing in the middle of a room in a haunted house.

_I'd like to think if this ever happens again, we won't get interrupted by Greg dropping the flashlight on Nick's foot by accident._ I thought to myself as Warrick and I broke apart and stared out into the hall at an apologizing Greg and a silently cursing Nick. _Only with moment's like this._

A louder noise was heard downstairs, louder and much more disturbing than Nick's groans of pain. Greg, who had just retrieved the incriminating flashlight, suddenly dropped it again on Nick's other foot at the sound of a whole table being knocked over, along with Sara and Grissom's yells.

"_Shit! Grissom! Help!" _The sound of snarls ensued after Sara's plea.

"_Sara!"_ Grissom's call rang as the wounded sounds of yelps and snarls continued.

In the blink of an eye, Grissom's forever faithful teammates and friends rushed down to his aid, myself leading the way.

**TBC...

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**

A/N2: There... Two chapters, now I've got to write up chapter 8, but I'll be trying to update quicker than last time. With the amount of sleep I'm getting, I should be able to at least. :-) So, just drop me a nice lil' review if you would. It would be very appreciated. :-)

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Yeesh, I just realized, 1) It's been a while since I updated... Sorry! And 2) I'm writing a Halloween fic several days away from Christmas. Heh, kinda ironic if you ask me, but that's okay I suppose. So long as y'all are still reading:-) And another thing, this chapter, a random desire to go further into the history of Killjoy's mansion was beginning to form so I ran with it. Tell me whatcha think!

Disclaimer: Aww c'mon! Do I hafta give this damn thing? It's close to Christmas, a time when dreams are supposed to come true! Damn these legal bindings on the world. NO! I don't own CSI or anything correlating to it. :-P

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

Grissom's POV:

The large and maneuverable counter top collided with the wall framing the entrance to the dining room, sandwiching the Rotweiler that was caught off guard with his blank black eyes focusing only on ambushing Sara along with his fellow assailants. All of them already equally dead.

I shared a wince with Sara as yelps of pain emanated from the already dead dog, despite the fact that it was a necessity for the dog to...

_How is it possible to kill something that's already dead?_ My mind became easily boggled, not just about this particular posed question, but the entire basis of tonight.

Nevertheless, the bigger and primary question hastily drowned out the previous question from before with its volume of importance. How was I going to get these rabid dogs, who were closing in on Sara, away from her? Size wasn't a factor when you were outnumbered.

Before a coherent plan could form in my mind, all actions and attacks were halted with the rushed footsteps pounding into the staircase in the next room. The quickest to recover, I took advantage of the off-guardedness of the closest Rotweiler and latched onto its still frozen stiff tail as I swung it back, sending it sliding into the walk-in freezer from whence it came. A clear path to Sara opened, and contrary to Robert Frost's poem, I took the path most worn.

Creating a human shield between the refocused dogs and Sara, the dogs began to close in just as help jumped through the door. Catherine stepped aside to allow Nick and Warrick to file in, taking the dogs off guard again. Both parties were frozen in confusion, and with a quick glance back at the doorway, I saw the horror growing in Greg's eyes as he noticed the attackers were none other than the Rotweilers we had once found frozen stiff and dead inside the freezer.

Abandoning Sara's side for a moment, seeing the prime opportunity, I sent another Rotweiler hurtling into the freezer, my hands slick from grabbing its chest. Nick and Warrick, forever the fast learners of the group, reciprocated my actions as two of the remaining three dogs launched themselves towards the two men. Now standing with a blaze of hatred in its black eyes just a few feet from the freezer, the dog I'd originally thrown in was knocked back in as Warrick's dog slammed into it.

A grunt of effort echoed in the dining room. I turned just in time – realizing I'd left Sara one-on-one with the remaining Rotweiler – to see Sara lean back to use the table as support to lift both legs in the air, thrusting so hard at the launched dog that it slid back and Sara jumped forward. The dog didn't quite make it into the freezer, but Jim made sure it was put in its respective spot as he nudged it along easily into the freezer, like a child sweeping dust under the rug. Greg and Catherine then assisted him in closing the large metallic door securely, gradually gaining help from Nick and Warrick when the two went to aid. A crash was heard from behind the door as one of the dogs most likely tried to make a last minute escape.

An almost inaudible groan of pain resonated from behind me as I redirected my attention to Sara. "Dammit."

Clutching her left wrist gingerly and inspecting it with her lower lip being bit, I could even see the tear along the inside of her forearm, running a red river from the joint of her elbow down about five inches. I had to stop myself from repeating the same sentence that I said little over three years ago after the lab explosion.

"_Honey, this doesn't look good."_

One of the few times I'd allowed the slip-up occur, and thankfully it was just between myself and Sara – who was most likely too shell shocked from the explosion to even notice. I wasn't about to let the same slip-up occur once more, in front of a half-captive audience.

"This is going to have to be stitched." I observed, running through the list of items that would be found in a first aid kit. "Catherine?"

There was profuse disagreement among the two women, Sara insisting that it wasn't that bad and no such actions were needed while Catherine complained that she couldn't and wouldn't sew skin together without knowing that the needle was sanitary. Realizing that both women would be difficult no matter what, I simply directed the group as a whole up the stairs once more, throwing a cautious glance at the now silent freezer door as we passed it.

"Grissom, it will be fine! The blood will coagulate with a little pressure!" Sara matched me step for step, incessantly pleading her case.

_Not before you pass out from massive blood loss._ I argued back in my head, outwardly ignoring Sara.

* * *

Catherine's POV:

Pulling the needle through the last layer of skin, I felt the final death squeeze to my arm all but cut off the little circulation I had when this all began. Sara collapsed back into the chair she sat in, stifling the screams of pain I knew she wanted to let out, along with the endless line of curses and ill-wishes she had for me.

Tugging the thread tight and knotting it off, my teeth acted as the scissors to amputate the thread. I now felt empathetic to the poor nurse who's wrist was my stress relief ball when I was giving birth to Lindsey. Of course Ed hadn't been there so the nurse had taken the worst. And from the look that still creased Sara's face, she could've passed off for a mother pushing out triplets.

"Is it safe to come back in now?" Greg's muffled voice sounded from behind the door to the bedroom Sara and I sat in.

"Yes." was what I had said, though Sara had been thinking differently when replying, "No."

Once the first penetration was done and Sara's free arm had wrapped around a vase on a close by stand, all the inactive party members had filed at the room quick. _It's a good thing I still have good reflexes._ I thought to myself as I saw the door open and everyone piled back in, stepping over the broken shards of pottery at the threshold. _Damn near took my head off._

"Grissom, I'm going to kill you." Sara seethed as Gil was the last one inside.

_Yeah, right like she'd have the ability to do that..._ I rolled my eyes, starting on replacing all the equipment I'd just used. _And it wouldn't even be for the obvious reasons._

"Jim, doesn't that qualify as a form of harassment as well as endangerment to my health?" Gil had dared to joke with Brass.

"Yeah, I guess it's a good thing we have her tied to that chair, huh?" Brass returned the banter, much to poor Sara's discomfort.

On cue, I reached around the back and hastily undid the rope restraints that bounded Sara to the chair. Shooting a mock-sorry glance back at Jim and Gil, I continued to pack up the First Aid Kit. The light banter as well as Sara mildly complaining about the pain to Nick and Greg continued until I was finished, then turned back into the group. Now had to be as good a time to break it to them as any, and by _them_ I meant Gil and Sara.

"Okay, so let's get into our sleep groups." I tried to sound as casual as possible, clasping my hands together. It almost sounded camp counselor-ish.

"What sleep groups?" Gil and Sara harmoniously inquired.

"Well, there isn't really one big room for us to all sleep in, so while you two were downstairs, we decided that maybe it was best to just form small sleep groups." When no one offered to explain, I figured I had to be the one. Gil's second-in-command, and what a job it was.

"And, uh..." Gil said, suddenly shifting all his weight onto the opposite foot. "Just what group were Sara and I put into?"

"Together." Warrick, thankfully and to my rescue, responded, knowing he was a safe distance away from both Gil and Sara.

If I thought I'd ever heard Lindsey complain about anything – whether it be groundings, time on the computer, hanging out with her friends – Gil and Sara easily outdid my daughter by a long shot. A _very_ long shot. The expected excuses were thrown out, about lab regulations, the inappropriate indications and what not. In the end, when all was said in done, not only from Gil and Sara, but from myself being the voice of reason, there was a stubborn agreement. It was clear that Sara was still offended by my comment about not trusting just Sara to protect me while I slept.

"Fine, but I'm taking a room next to Nicky and Brass." Sara said with crossed arms.

"Hey, don't just forget about me!" Greg chimed, not hearing his name float past his ears.

"And Greg." Sara amended, still in a pouty mood now.

With many grumbles from Grissom and Sara, we all got to our designated rooms. For me, there was a comfortableness and awkwardness about entering the same bedroom as Warrick. _There is so many things wrong with this entire ordeal, but it still feels partially right.

* * *

_

Greg's POV:

I stuck my tongue out at Nick as I hopped up to the top bunk after the preparation jump. I had dropped down ten pounds in the last month or so, putting me at 140, while Nick was still 159. The weight amount for the top bunk: 150. Below I saw Brass take his shotgun called bottom bunk as Nick splayed out a sleeping bag on the ground at the foot of the bunk bed.

"If I wake up with back pain, Greg, you're paying for a massage for me when we get back." Nick threatened as he slid between the sleeping bag, gratefully taking the pillow Brass tossed down to him.

"Now Nick, don't be a poor sport simply because you couldn't stay away from the fast food restaurants as of late." Brass grumbled as he turned on his side, attempting to rest up for his vigil after Nick's. "Trust me, been there, done that."

I heard somewhere down there, obviously from Nick, a low and inaudible, "I bet you have." I chuckled as I relaxed into the bed, although that wasn't as easy as it sounded. The whole essence of this house had me on edge, and it amazed me that Brass was so quick to get to sleep. And everyone complained that Grissom had no feelings.

It was the small sounds that had my eyes snapping open every time they began to droop, like Nick rustling around on the floor in the sleeping bag, or the wind rustling outside. My eyelids might as well been glued open when I envisioned the snarling and decapitated faces of the dogs being within inches of my face. I shrunk under the covers with the very thought, reminding me of how I'd quiver under the covers when my cousins would tell these gory and explicit ghost stories at sleepovers.

"Psst!" I heard from below. "Greg!"

Managing to get to the edge of the bed, bidding my mind not to imagine some unthinkable creature to be glaring up at me instead of Nick, I peeked down, seeing the Texan's face glancing up casually and propped up on on elbow. On sight of me, his lips upturned in a smug smile.

"I knew it... You can't sleep either." I let out a huge sigh of relief when Nick turned on a Maglite after his statement.

"Yeah, can't say the same for Brass though." I commented, emerging from my protective sheets and mimicking Nick's stance.

Nick only laughed in response, now taking the time to look around the room. In earnest, there was nothing threatening about it. It actually looked normal, or as normal as a bedroom inside an 19th to 20th century insane asylum could get.

Now that I was finally out of the dark and could see, the curiosity inside of me took over as I cautiously lowered myself off the top bunk, watching to make sure I didn't kick Brass. Nick's eyes were felt on my back as I walked about the room, and it wasn't long until he joined me over at an antiquated vanity table when he noticed that I had taken a seat.

Going through the drawers, I was rewarded when my eyes came across a small diary of sorts. Just like everything else in this mansion, it was dust covered, yet well persevered. I coughed into my sleeve as silently as possible as I opened up to the first page and began to read the first entry.

_13 July, 1908, Friday_

_The day has been as monotonous and routine as it can get inside an insane asylum. Father says that on Sunday, we shall be heading inland to enjoy a day in town after church. Aside from that, Mother has made sure that my studies are the only thing that shall occupy my sister's and mine time until then._

_The most peculiar thing happened to me yesterday, and I cannot find a reason for it in the slightest. While on my daily walk through the maze with my sister, Emiline, we heard our Father talking to our Mother in the center of the maze. What puzzled me the most was that Father was taking personal time off to converse with our Mother during his work hours; He is such a dedicated man after all. The nature of their conversation was nothing our business, yet Emiline became infatuated with it after the mention of our names in correspondence to the inmates. Particularly, the three newest triplet girls._

Both Nick and I paused, but he beat me to what I was about to ask. "You don't think this is referring to those triplets that died here, do you?"

* * *

Warrick's POV:

"Phew, these people sure knew how to live!" I claimed as I ran a hand across the large king sized bed.

Catherine hummed enthusiastically as her blue gaze swept over the Mahogany vanity table and matching dressers.

Fanning the stiff covers out, I flapped the covers down on the bed, taking residence on the right side of the bed – closest to the door. Laying on top, I watched as Catherine sat down at the small vanity set, inspecting the necklace around her neck as discreetly as possible using her Maglite. A smug grin surfaced on my lips as I tore my gaze painfully away from Catherine, forcing my mind to face the reality of this situation and not some fantasy that I still had in the back of my mind. The alternative for Catherine turned out to be a leather bound diary stationed on the nightstand just beside me with the pen still resting lazily slanted on top of it.

"Hey, check this out Cath..." I beckoned, reaching for it only to discovered a large and hairy spider scampered out from my reach – covered in dust – making my hand recoil. "Great. One of Grissom's friends."

"Spider or roach?" Catherine's face held a genuine look of distaste as she turned in her seat.

"Not roach." I responded, following the spider's path up the wall with my eyes. "And I'm not about to have Grissom kill me for killing it."

Trying her hardest not to focus on the eight-legged and million eyed arachnid sprinting away from me, Catherine soon joined me on the bed as I took the leather diary into my lap, spider-free. Underneath the layer of dust I found that the name Elizabeth Johanson was carved into the brown leather cover.

"Johanson? As in, Robert Johanson? As in Dr. Killjoy?" Catherine thought out loud.

"I guess so. Wife maybe?" I offered, flipping open to the first page.

_10 July 1908, Tuesday_

_Robert has been changing lately, and not for the better. I fear that this mental institution and his patients are changing him. This is not the man I married ten years ago, nor the man I've raised my children with. The Robert Johanson that I knew would not be calculating just how much electric voltages a human can endure before they are electrocuted at night while in bed._

_And now that we have finally relocated our long lost triplet daughters, I fear that I have not seen the worst of this new Robert Johanson just yet. They are to be transported over to here by the county later today, and Robert has been pacing the living quarters all day with great impatience._

_What to do when my heart says run but my feet will not cooperate?_

_For now, all I can do is simply sit back and pray my husband's sanity does not match, if not top, that of his patients that he is so called trying to "treat" here on this horrible island. I feel as if some force is tricking his mind and turning him into this man I see before me. I, too, feel this dark force, though I refuse to allow it to consume me. I can feel a horrible presence on this island, and I am now intent on finding what it is._

"Electroshock treatment? That wasn't even introduced to psychiatric wards until the 1930s, right?" I furrowed my brows together in pure confusion.

"I'm not even sure if you can call this place a psychiatric ward..." Warrick said pensively. "Just the house of a madman and his victims."

* * *

Sara's POV:

One bed. One room. By ourselves.

_Perhaps not under the most desired conditions, but..._ My conscience spoke.

Instant awkwardness.

"_I could always take the couch."_ Grissom had offered the moment our eyes ran across the king sized bed residing in the middle of the room.

That was five minutes ago. I'd yet to give an answer.

Deciding to skip the modest dialogue back and forth with him, insisting that I'd gladly take the couch, I simply made the decision on my own as I trekked across the room and cautiously took a seat on the rather stiff sofa, not trusting decades of residing in this house. It looked more for decoration than for a fitful rest – or any rest for that matter – but it seemed to support my weight, just barely. I knew that if Grissom where to step in the vicinity of the couch, it would most likely break underneath me however.

_If I lay down, I'm pretty sure this will break._

"I'll just take first watch, Grissom." I insisted with a modest shrug thrown in for good measure as I began to relieve myself of the belt that now holstered the wine bottles around my waist. _It's heavier than I anticipated._ "I wouldn't be able to sleep anyways."

"What makes you believe I will be able to either?" Through the dark, I saw Grissom raise an inquiring eyebrow at me as he mirrored my previous movements, setting his belt on the bed while mine found its way to the floor.

Balancing the Maglite on the coffee table directly in front of me in high hopes to illuminate the room a little more, I began inspecting the other areas to the room while putting Grissom's half rhetorical comment on delay for a moment. Off to my right I spotted what certainly passed off for a dressing bureau. It had a couple of inches off of Grissom's broad shoulders and just an inch below his height. Chancing my luck with getting up, I approached it carefully, not underestimating what could happen after just getting attacked by dogs that had been dead the first time I'd seen them.

_I must truly seem psychotic now if I'm paranoid of a damn dresser..._ I said with an eye roll as I realized the stupidity of myself when I'd jumped with the contact of my hand to the handle.

But stupidity is not always to be shunned.

The moment I opened the dresser, plans set out to find dry and clean clothes, the common household pest otherwise known as a rat, leapt out of its prison and attached itself to my face. Or at least attempted to. My otherwise useful reflexes caused me to jump back and trip over the coffee table to crash land on my newly claimed couch. To say the least, I wasn't the only thing that crashed.

The expensive couch splintered underneath me as the rat scurried out of the room past Grissom who was barely retaining a chuckle at this point. After a second of silent chuckling, he made his way over to me in an attempt to help me resuscitate what little dignity I had left after being made the comic relief.

_I thought that was what Greg was for..._ I internally grumbled as I got to my feet.

"Are you okay?" He asked through his laughter, yet there seemed to be genuine concern somewhere underneath his mirth.

"Just wonderful." I remarked in a sarcastic tone as I turned to the bureau once more.

To the early 20th and late 19th century's credit, they had reasonable clothes... for children. More specifically, little girls. They most likely would've fit me perfectly as a child, but now while I might be able to get into them, I think the length of the blouses and skirts would've put the prostitutes in the slums to shame.

"Well, so much for new clothes." Grissom huffed slightly behind me, shining his Maglite over the inner drawers.

Just as the light was receding, it flashed over something. And forgive me for sounding like Greg in his ADD moments, but it was shiny. Automatically grabbing for the flashlight, I missed and snatched Grissom's wrist instead. Dropping it like a hot potato, I mumbled for him to redirect the light back in the bureau. After digging under several articles of clothing, I produced a leather bound diary with three names etched into the front cover.

_Elizabeth, Martha, Sarah._

"A diary?" Grissom echoed my thoughts simultaneously to their creation.

Without further words, I cracked it open several pages in.

_21 July 1908, Saturday_

_A week has passed now and still no sign of our Mother has presented itself before our bare eyes. All the while, Mr. Johanson has been treating us with only the highest respect and honor. As my sisters and I write this, we lay in Mr. Johanson's children's previous room. In one aspect, we are enthralled about our heightened positions with the good doctor, but it also leads me to question his motives. After conversing with a fellow child who had been here longer than either three of us have, we found that no inmate had ever been allowed to dine with the family, sleep upstairs with the family, or even associate as freely as we had with the family. Being the most sensible person out of our triplet connection, I fear the doctor's ulterior motives for our good treatment. Martha has already been acting in quite the peculiar way, and I fear Elizabeth is going down the same path. I shall make the venture by myself then. There are answers to every question my young mind poses, and God willing, I will find them at any and all costs._

"Sounds to me like the doctor wasn't as reputable as believed." I stated, slightly disturbed with the writing of the little girl I could only presume was named "Sarah".

"Half of them weren't back then, Sara." Grissom countered with a shrug. "Not enough intelligence and too much negligence due to ignorance."

I could feel my mind switch over to the investigator in me. The questioned my mind. _Why did Dr. Johanson give them special treatment? Was this girl correct about there being an ulterior motive, or did everyone on this island have their fair share of mental disabilities?_ But perhaps the most prominent question that began to get repetitive in my mind was, _Just who was Dr. Johanson?_

Flipping in even more pages in, I slowly watched with every calligraphy written word and letter morphed to form-fit the writer. What began as an intuitive and naturally curious girl soon became a classic case of drugs influencing a perfectly function brain. More and more paranoid question began to be posed, claiming sabotage and molestation of their privacy and basic civil rights. Talk of missing inmates began to be mentioned until finally the breaking point was reached the fourteenth page in.

_29 October 1908, Thursday_

_The evidence is concrete. Couldn't be mistaken in front of the witness of a blind man. Through the haze of all my confusion and drug induced comas, I have come across the one bit of incriminating evidence that disproves everyone's accusations of my insanity and sin... In the room reserved for Dr. Killjoy's studies, now his wife hangs as a stiffen portrait against the piercing spears that line the cage she was enclosed in, her once pale and beautiful face charcoaled black with signs of electrocution. Everyone simply denied the existence that two little girls by the name of Emiline and Katherine, formally Dr. Killjoy's children by second marriage, but I knew that they had been real. Now all that remains is to get inland and find the police. My own sisters have lost sight of the light but I refuse to. I only hope I do not get as severally reprimanded as I feel I shall soon be. Tonight, I shall embark on a do-or-die quest. I can feel the constraints on my wrist and legs lest I do otherwise. And I can feel the agonizing pain of Dr. Killjoy's makeshift "pets" clamping down on my small battered legs should I make the quest. But still... I must do it._

Instantaneously flipping to the next page, I found it was blank. Thumbing through the rest of the pages, I found them exactly the same way; Blank. As the last page came within reach, a folded piece of parchment fell into my lap. Mindlessly allowing Grissom to take the diary out of my possession, I supplanted it with the browning paper, delicately unfolding it half expecting to find some disturbing content. Instead, we were presented with a hand drawn map of the island and mansion with sections starred off for some purpose that was further explained in the legend off to the top right hand corner.

"Her whole escape route was planned out." Grissom noted, trailing the path through the second floor downstairs, into the basement and beyond with the beam of the flashlight.

"And there's pit stops along the way." I added, checking the legend for the meaning of the stars. "Grissom, this is our way off the island!"

Grissom's hand halted any further excitement out of my mouth momentarily as he seemed to be contemplating the situation as well. Even in the dark, I could make out every detailed line in his "thinking face" before he abruptly stood and trekked toward the door, taking the aged parchment with him. Pivoting several times, he eventually approached the frame and proceeded to ease it off the wall. As the beam flashed over chunk of wood residing in his hand, the flashlight glared off a piece of metal at me, blinding me temporarily.

"It seems that the map is correct thus far." Grissom held up the block and map as if it were incriminating evidence in a case. "Key to the cells downstairs."

The excitement took over the narrative once more. "We have to go get everyone and tell them!"

"Let them rest for a while, Sara. We all need it." Grissom commented as he pocketed the key and placing the chunk of frame back where it belonged. "This path doesn't look like an easy one and we don't need people falling behind from exhaustion."

In the dark, I bit my lip with the recollection of why my backside dully hurt right now. Excitement washed away and there to supplant it was that feeling of awkwardness and fumbling nervousness like a girl before her first kiss.

_We are civilized, mature adults._ I told myself in a mantra as we telepathically came to the agreement where I began to scoot over to the left side of the bed as he slid into my place. _Sleeping in the same bed does not have to mean the implications that are associated with it._

I could sense the nervousness flowing off him in a steady current and through the mattress we laid on, spread apart as far as we could without falling off the bed, and we weren't even under the covers. For all intents and purposes, I held no desire to get underneath them lest the awkward factor sky rocket through the roof. And though the dust aggravated my nose and lungs, after clearing the pillow off to the side of the bed and repositioning it underneath my head, I found the prospect of sleep very good, no matter who was next to me. And as I landed myself into a drowsy and blissful state, it was found secretly that having that someone be Grissom was possibly the best part out of the whole ordeal.

**TBC...

* * *

**

A/N2: Meh? Anyone there still? Haha, truth be told, I had an easier time writing the diary entries than I did writing everything else. Did I succeed in making anyone feel like it was early 20th century writing? Yeah I'm an amateur but give me credit:-) Well, probably won't update until after Christmas, so I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday! (I shall be slaving over the vast quantity of projects and essays my "Grinch" teachers assigned me. Bahumbug!) Well, that's after I have my fun.

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: First off, belated Happy New Year's! Hope y'all had a good time. I know I did for once. Second off, thank you for all the reviews and just for reading in general. Know I don't say that too often but I'm literally dumbfounded and giddy as a schoolgirl every time I get a review. And third off, yes, a major disappointment in this chapter. Only four pages, but I really couldn't just keep you waiting much longer so I just had to put out what was there... Got something general planned up until the end, so I'll love it if you'll stick around just a lil' bit longer. LoL.

Mad props to my faithful reviewers out there. Do I have to even say who you are? You know who you are. Don't be modest. With me, if you just review once, you'll automatically gain my undying love. :-)

Disclaimer: Aww! First disclaimer of the year! Sweet. I don't own 'em!

* * *

Chapter 9

* * *

Nick's POV:

Relief flooded my once tense body as I began to hear Greg's light snoring double its decibels gradually from up on the bunk bed. For a moment there, I had thought Greg would never fall asleep after seeing everything from tonight plus what we'd discovered inside the diary. I didn't even dare to pull out the old Polaroid because I wanted to leave what food I'd eaten from before work inside my body, not in the sleeping bag.

In truth, the picture wasn't even that gory as was expected. But just the idea plus my own personal experiences combined made a lasting disturbing effect on my brain. The claustrophobia began to set in and I knew I needed to get out of the room, even if it was just into the hall.

My skin crawled as I tried to calmly shut the bedroom door behind me, instead of slamming it in the anxious manner that I was feeling but only half succeeding. Now I stood with my back practically attached to the door in the dark in the middle of the hallway. My head darted left and right trying to keep watch for anything that might be roaming this house freely besides the team. Claustrophobia was no longer the single issue as the picture painted itself in front of my open eyes where the thick darkness floated.

_Decisions just couldn't get any easier, could they?_ I moaned inwardly as I made the decision between claustrophobic anxiety or this anxiety that didn't seem to want to stop anytime soon.

My eyes constricted shut in an attempt to clear my head, but all it did was make it ten times worse as my imagination added sound effects in on top of the visuals.

_Heavy chains clattered against each other as the screams of the person lying inside the dirt grave were stifled even more. Wrapped from head to toe in woven cotton clothe, chains were wrapped around the wriggling body, connected securely with a deadbolt lock that probably pressed hard into the person's gut. The dirt was piled on soon afterwards, sealing the fate of the defenseless person who screamed glass shattering cries for mercy and forgiveness._

My brown eyes sprang open when the cool touch grazed my shoulder and I soon found myself staring over into another set of deep brown eyes. Before long, all anxiety washed away as Sara grabbed my bicep a little more firmly and questioned me with her eyes. Now that I was paying more attention, I found that between my exit of the room and my daydream, I was drenched through and through with sweat, my heart, pulse, and breathing was through the roof, and my body might as well have been a corpse in rigor from how stiff I was against the door.

"Ye-yeah... I'm fine." I answered her question out loud.

"Nicky this is not 'fine'." Sara whispered, releasing my arm now that I started to relax. "What happened?"

"I don't know... I just stepped outside the room for a second and then..." Pausing to collect myself and to remind myself that I wasn't alone anymore. "Images from this photo me and Greg found in this old diary started playing out in my head and I kinda just went off daydreaming."

"Nicky, you kept saying, 'Don't let them get me, go away' over and over again." Sara said after a moment. "You don't remember that?"

My brows furrowed with confusion, overpowering the anxiety that tried to creep back into my system for just a second. But it was only for a second. When all there was, was silence, memories of my own incident just last year inundated my mind. Not even Sara's presence helped the fact that I felt myself growing smaller and smaller. There wasn't a single person I could think of that could help that feeling inside of me.

"I got it from here, Sar..." A baritone voice hummed somewhere in the darkness of my mind. "Nick... Nick!"

Snapping out of my reverie, my theory that no one could help the shrinking feeling in me was quickly disproved. Out of this entire team, my best possible friend – Warrick Brown – was gripping me back into reality, and if I was gay, I swear on everything I love and care about that I'd probably kiss him for it.

"Nick, man, what's up?" Warrick asked as Sara reluctantly retreated back into her room.

Running a hand over my head and through my hair, I felt my body relax once again, but this time, permanently. "This damn house is getting to me!"

"Hey man, it's getting to everyone... But it's just a matter of time until we get the Hell outta here and we're back on the Strip." Warrick soothed me like I used to calm my brother's wild horse, Shadow. "You just gotta hang on until that time comes though, okay? And you got a lotta people that will show you support at the tip of your head. _Especially_ me."

"I know, it's just..." I gulped, finally calming down. "Greg and I found this picture and it just reminds me so much of last year. Almost too damn much, Warrick!"

Warrick was about to reply when Grissom and Sara emerged from the room. Grissom, my Father figure of sorts, quietly questioned me the way Sara had from beside Warrick. Nodding my head in response, even more relaxed now that I knew Grissom was here, of all people, Grissom diverted his gaze over to Warrick.

"In about twenty minutes, get everyone up and tell them to congregate into Sara and mine's room, got it?" Grissom ordered the lower level CSI.

"Got it." Warrick responded, patting me with his heavy hand on my back, leading me back toward his and Catherine's room. "C'mon Nick."

Both Warrick and I stopped when Grissom held me back with a hand on my shoulder. "We're getting outta here, Poncho. We're getting outta here now."

* * *

Greg's POV:

"Sanders! Wake your ass up." Brass's gruff and rather protruding voice broke the happy and warm darkness around me.

Grumbling and creaking open my eyes, I saw Brass scrambling down off the bed and heading out of the room. Shooting up out of the bed, alert now, I jumped down to the floor, landing in Nick's empty sleeping bag. _Where is he?_

Exiting the room, I saw that the only door open was Grissom and Sara's next door. Tip toeing over to the ajar door and sliding easily in, I joined in on what looked like a meeting with a Task Force. Grissom and Catherine sat on the bed, intently studying what I identified as a map as I stepped closer with curiosity. Sara's flashlight fluoresced the parchment a little too brightly for my eyes to take in all at once.

"Okay, now that Greg has joined us, let's go over this one last time." Grissom commanded, signaling us to draw in closer. "Our way out is through the basement and a series of underground caverns and tunnels out to the beach on the other side of the island."

"Wait wait wait!" I felt obliged to interrupt, recalling what Nick and I had read from before. "If it's like this up here, it's only going to be worse down cellar! We'll be minced meat before we even get to see land or daylight!"

"There is protection in numbers, Greg. Or at least, that's what they always preach in women's self-defense classes." Sara noted with a shrug.

"We have to act fast, before the night gives us worse things to deal with than resurrecting dogs." Grissom continued from there, staring up while his head was still tilted down toward the map.

"Then just how are we going to get all of us down those stairs?" Recalling the unstable stairs I'd stood before, I recollected my thoughts about the heavy set people in our group not being able to make it down without making a hole in the steps. "Those steps won't be able to support you or Brass's weight."

"Hey watch it. I've been going to the gym as of late." Brass tossed me a precarious glance and an authoritative point of the forefinger.

As much as I respected Jim Brass for his work and duties, a look of distaste couldn't be avoided as mental images of Brass working out in a gym entered my mind's eye instead of the cute blonde with hazel eyes that went to the gym near my apartment that I normally affiliated with gym workouts.

Completely ignoring Brass's comment, Grissom commenced. "We'll have to find a way because according to this map, there is no other way out except for the way we came. And jumping a twelve foot gate again is not my personal preference." When I had said nothing in response to that, he continued on with the explanation of the escape route. "It appears as if the entrance to the first cavern is in one of the cells closest to the seclusion room in the far left and back of the basement. It'll be a long walk, but if we can make it there, it's only about a ten minute trip through tunnels and caverns out to the beach."

"What about our transportation over to the wall of the highway?" Nick questioned to the right of me.

"There's a boat marked on the map just a little ways from where we'll be ending up on the beach." Catherine's index finger pointed to a grotesque drawing of a miniature boat at the bank of the lake.

"Does anyone feel like they won't be able to make this?" Grissom's blue eyes made contact with everyone else's in the room.

Not one of us dared to speak up, knowing that this was our way out. _Of course we're gonna be able to make it if it saves us!_

"Okay then!" Catherine announced, a little more emphatically as she rose to her feet and off the bed. "Let's get the Hell outta here!"

The boss and Sara seemed to be strapping the belt of makeshift Molotov Cocktails about their waists while everyone else just mentally barred themselves for our grand escape. I felt like I was in the middle of one of those movies where everyone is held hostage until someone comes along to rescue them and led them out to safety.

"You set to go?" Sara questioned, tugging the belt tighter around her waist from beside me now, right in front of her door.

Smirking over at her through the flashlight lit room, I nodded in her peripheral vision. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Piling out of the bedroom and into the hallway we were just about at the top of the stairs when a ground shaking explosion seemed to occur behind us and at the end of the hall. Grabbing Sara by the shoulders to ensure she didn't fall down the stairs, all of us turned simultaneously to face whatever Hell-risen demon or creature we were now faced with. I had no doubt in my mind that it was some freak of nature, but I _never_ had expected to be faced with a sight that made Conrad Ecklie look like a super model.

_Uh oh._

**TBC...

* * *

**

A/N2: Or will it? Nahh... I wouldn't leave it there. I was contemplating saying "Brad Pitt" in that last line instead of "super model", but I personally don't find the guy all that great looking. But yeah, you get the general gist of it. Hope you don't mind with the extreme shortness of this chapter! Sorry! Geez, don't go eating babies now! (XD Good times Chloe. Random, but good.) So, hit me up with a review and you'll have my undying love or your review back!

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Ok, now I'm satisfied with the length of this chapter.. Almost nine pages. :P Woot. Woot. Added in some new monsters for your reading pleasure and didn't leave you at a cliffhanger this time, though it does get pretty intense throughout this entire chapter. :) Expect nothing less from yours truly. And thank you from the bottom of my heart, as well as the top and sides, for all these reviews. I'd suffer a tragic death without them. And then who'd write this completely whacked out story? _EXACTLY_.

Disclaimer: (Fanfare) Well well well... Seems like we have the DNA tests in... Am I the mother of CSI? (Opens folder) Dammit... Nope. So I guess I don't own it...

* * *

Chapter 10

* * *

Brass's POV:

I was one of the only people that didn't even bother to turn around and look. Personally, I didn't want to know what else this damn house had to offer that would dismantle us or just plain kill us. When I got out of this, I would like to think that I wouldn't have this paranoia of children or dogs or whatever disconfigured thing that was behind us right now.

But the curiosity of what could've possibly made the guttural growling noises caused my head to twist backwards and confront what had caused the explosion. If anything, I had to find relief that I wouldn't take a paranoia of this, because I was certain there was nothing _like_ this out in what I might as well call "the real world".

A creature that should've towered higher than the ceiling in the hallway stood at the very end of the passage way and let out a low growl while it sniffed the air around it. The head and shoulders would've poked through the ceiling had it not been hunch backed and bent over. About its eyes, an aged rag was tied about to blindfold its eyes, bloodstains marking where its eyes either were or were supposed to be. At any rate, I didn't want to be the one to find out.

Grabbing a fistful of the first shirt I came in contact with – Gil's – I began slowly pulling him down the stairs, whispering as slightly as I could to everyone else.

"Back away you guys... Don't make a sound." I urged as my foot felt for the first step.

Skin that I'd only seen on the bodies that come floating in off the lake jiggled around with bags of excess fat as the thing took half a step forward, stretching it's stumpy neck to sniff the walls. The majority of the team was already down on the third step from the top when 'Rick took his next step down onto the fourth when all that rang through the house was...

_CREEK.._

The step moaned under 'Rick's weight and the thing's head snapped immediately in our direction, bearing it's rotted yet pointed teeth at us and if the eyes could be seen, they would've been glaring right at 'Rick's hazel ones. I could practically feel the glare skim past me, it almost made me jump back from the burn.

"Go, go, _go_, **_go_**, **_GO_**!" My voice raised and intensified with every "go" I spoke, standing there on the stairs and forcefully pushing everyone else in the direction of downstairs as the sluggish creature moved as fast as it could down the long hallway.

Sara was about halfway down already when she noticed I wasn't following. Her body abruptly twisted toward me, yanking on my arm sleeves as I gradually uncuffed them and rolled them up to my elbows and loosened my tie.

"C'mon Brass! Let's get out of here!" Sara continued to try and pull my stocky figure along, but the 108 pound brunette didn't have nearly enough momentum to do the job.

"Let the beasts handle the beasts, okay Miss Sidle?" I quipped, realizing that thing was coming at us all too quickly. "And since one of those big and burly hookers isn't here to fill in the role of beast, I guess I'm the runner up."

Sanders, obviously hearing Sara and I arguing it out at the top of the steps, decided to aid Sara in her quest to get me down the steps. But that just wasn't going to happen. That thing was halfway down the hall and still coming at it's sluggish full force.

"That thing'll tear you limb from limb if you try to take it. Let's go!" It bemused me that Sanders had the guts to say that to my face, getting in front of me and pushing me back with his bony hands on my chest.

Looking over Greg's hair, I noticed it was ¾ of the way down this hall now and if Greg wasn't careful, that thing would smash him against the wall to make him the new wallpaper. I was about to just send the two of them down the stairs express route style until Gil bumped Greg out of line and squeezed my biceps as hard as he could, damn near breaking my arm. But it knocked me to my senses.

_What the Hell am I doing?_

"Brass, move it." The strictness in my friend's voice did the final number on this strange feeling inside of me that had me rooted to the steps, in front of this thing's war path.

* * *

Grissom's POV:

As I still kept a vice grip on Jim's arm, the four of us managed to catch up with the rest of the group that was currently yanking on the door to the basement with a force that should've tore it off the hinges. Yet it stubbornly remained as it was.

Nick and Warrick lined side by side and seemed to give each other the silent look of agreement as they broke down the door with coinciding kicks with their heavy booted feet, sending the two guys down the stairs with the broken door as their sled. Their yells echoed upwards all the way down until a crash that didn't sound any better than it probably appeared. Catherine and Greg were quick to run down the stairway and I followed after Sara, hearing the steps breaking from that creature attempting it's way down the steps.

Or perhaps it had just been the steps I was standing on?

In the blink of an eye, the boards underneath Sara and I crumbled like dust in the wind and I found myself jumping back for the doorway, falling short and having Sara clasping me around the waist, lest she fall into the bottomless pit underneath the stairs. Only half of my upper body made it through the doorway while the rest dangled uselessly, only acting as Sara's lifeline, judging from how tight she was squeezing me.

Gripping either side of the doorframe and with the assistance of Brass, I managed to get my torso up high enough for Brass to grab Sara and pull her up all the way. I scrambled the rest of the way when I was only pulling my own weight once again.

"Gil! Are you guys okay?" I heard Catherine's echoing voice call up.

"We're fine!" Fumbling with the key and stuffing the map through the decorative hole on the shaft of the key, I sent it flying down the steps, already memorizing the route in my head. "Did you get that?"

"What the Hell?"

"It's the key and the map. Brass, Sara, and I are going to find our own way down there! The stairs gave out!" I replied to Catherine's inquisitive voice.

"Okay! Be careful you three!"

We were out in the kitchen and dining room before we could even reply to her, the creature not far behind.

* * *

Greg's POV:

All the flashlights in our small group clicked off harmoniously with the pounding footsteps of that _thing _tailing after Grissom, Sara, and Brass. My stomach, running on E and worry, decided to take up gymnastics as it did flips in its confided prison at the thought of how those three would fair against... whatever that was. The rustle of my clothes made my heartbeat quicken as I bent down to retrieve the awkward looking key and map, holding it up as if it was a piece of incriminating evidence.

"We have gotta get outta here, but I'm not leaving without Sara and everyone else."

There was a silent nod in agreement with my statement as we unraveled the parchment, turned the flashlights back on, and went over it one last time, only peering up and over our shoulders every couple seconds at our new surrounds.

It smelled just like a basement should. Musty, moldy, and damp. Ancient stone blocks that looked like they'd been there as long as the Stone Hedges had been in that field with the cracking contour lines scarring them. In a way, it kind of reminded me of the catacombs we'd visited while on a 10th grade field trip back in High School. Of course, this time Mrs. Cetner wasn't there to pat me on the back and hand me off to the burly guard who led me back topside for fresh air. With every distracting stomp from that thing upstairs, debris sprinkled upon us, and personally having me worried about whether we'd be buried underneath three tons of this mansion in a few seconds.

"Okay, okay... Look there!" My pointer finger underlined the word "library" in the section dedicated to the first level.

"What's that scribbled inside the cubicle?" Warrick inquired, squinting closer. "'Alternate escape route'?"

"Or even just take a look at the laundry room." Nick furthered the decoding of the map, pointing a couple inches south of where the library would be had it been in the basement. "There's bound to be a laundry chute there leading up to a bathroom or something..."

"Sounds like we have two possible escape routes for Gil, Brass, and Sara." Catherine noted coolly, somehow regaining that smile of hers dizzily fast.

"Yeah but where does this 'alternate escape route' end up in terms of here in the basement? There's no actual rooms in that vicinity." I countered, just staring at a long stretch of hallway on the map.

"Maybe it's just a random hole in the ceiling." Nick looked around for signs of approval, and respectfully getting what the suggestion deserved.

"Well let's get going then so we can get the Hell off this island." Warrick declared, already heading off into the dark halls for the direction of either of these routes upstairs.

I had to admit, for a hand drawn map, it was fairly accurate considering how scaled down it was, but that didn't take away the fact that there were more halls either leading in circles or to dead ends than I cared to count. It seemed to take forever, but the still lingering smell of soap, however old it was, drew us to the laundry room, leaving us only a couple feet from the "alternate escape route". Armed with only a metal bar we'd picked up along the way and his Maglite, Nick cleared the laundry room with Warrick covering his back while Catherine and I opted just to say outside. Nick's head popped out of the room after a matter of minutes and gave a swift nod and a jaunty point upwards with his forefinger.

But I thought the damn door was going to take of his head when it shut tight when Cath and I were about to follow Nick in. I held back a yelp as I sucked the nail on my middle finger that'd gotten jambed in the door. The door jiggled violently as both Nick and Catherine worked on getting it open. Stuck with the duty of watching the halls now that the Creep Factor was picking up once again. Stomping that was heard primarily upstairs was now heard downstairs with us and the crumbling of solid stone was ringing in my ears.

"Nick, Nick, Nick! Back up away from there!" Warrick's voice was heard from inside, shortly followed with the sound of bodies hitting the cement floor.

Curses were thrown left and right while my eyes darted to either end of the hall, watching and waiting for whatever was down here with us. A light drop of some unknown liquid was felt on top of my head, being absorbed into my hair, but as I ran my hand through my hair and examined it, I saw the familiar color of red on my now bloodstained hand.

Glancing up with the slowest possible movement of my head, I failed to drop to the ground quick enough and found myself being strangled in mid-air while still being pulled up toward the ceiling.

I guess if I lived to make it out of this one I could properly correct someone when they say you can't get blood from stone. I'll correct them and send them to this house.

* * *

Catherine's POV:

The sound of strangled cries and gasps for breath had me twirled around with my back pressed against the door quicker than a millisecond flat. And while I felt like turning my head off to the side and bringing back up what dinner I had before work, the horror before my eyes had them locked with Greg's pleading ones.

Hanging down from the ceiling by a thick rope noose that had the most repugnant creature we'd seen all night caught in it's noose. Skinned down to it's bare flesh and decapitated from the waist down, leaving all the vital organs to hang limply down, this creature had Greg in a headlock inside one of its tree-sized arms with no intention of letting go while the other arm dragged both it and Greg up toward the hole in the ceiling. The smell of decomposing flesh couldn't be mistaken less than a few inches in front of me.

"Greg!"

Taking as firm a grip as I could around the ex-lab rat's legs, I fought tooth and nail for him, but inevitably being lifted off my feet as well. The dropped flashlight on the ground illuminated Greg's face turning a mixture of beat red from his struggling and flailing around and purple from the lack of oxygen getting to his brain. Still clinging onto his legs with one good arm, I reached up and dug into the thing's arm that was wrapped securely around Greg's neck with my nails, feeling my stomach churn slightly with the same sound of David checking for the liver temp on our dead bodies. Even after years of my work and countless dead bodies, I still couldn't get used to the sound, but actually feeling my nails and fingers dig into the flesh was another thing entirely.

A screech of pain that made a banshee sound like a harp rang out from the hanging monster as he released his grip of Greg, which meant that I took the fall as well, before retreating back into its hole in the ceiling. Greg's hands felt around his neck while he writhed around on the floor in pain, eventually working his way onto his knees and hunched over.

Scuttling over to Greg, I laid one hand on his shoulder which moved to his chin to lift his face up to stare at me, so he could see the concerned question in my blue eyes. He nodded before he continued on with his spasmodic coughing.

"You saved me..." Greg managed out when he'd ingested enough air.

"I'm most likely going to end up as your supervisor someday, so I might as well get used to saving you now rather than later." I smiled with mirth as I helped him up to his feet, looking up skeptically at the hole in the wall. "But just as long as it's not against that thing, I think I'll managed."

"NICK!" Warrick's voice bellowed from inside the laundry room as the door blew open with a powerful gust of wind.

With Warrick a couple feet away from the doorway and knocked backwards on his back, Greg and I watched in horror as Nick was sucked upwards quicker than lightening.

* * *

Sara's POV:

Jabbing the four pegs to the stool I now held out at the advancing monster, I found myself backed into the corner of the dining room with the feeling of the cold wall pressed against my back. A door leading to God knows where was off to my right, with Brass and Grissom locked behind it. And for the life of me, it wouldn't open despite having three people trying to pry it open.

It wasn't only until a split second later that I began to grin mirthlessly and hysterically. The house had finally gotten to me and at this point in time, I didn't care much at what I did. All I knew was that I was cornered and just like when Adam Trent had backed me against that counter in the psyche ward, I felt the need to strike back.

Chucking the wooden stool in the general vicinity of it's face, I didn't stick around to watch the creature crush the stool into a pile of splinters with a backhander into the wall, arming myself instead with one of the Molotov cocktails around my waist. The creature wasn't so quick to guard it's face from the wine glass shattering on it's face. Making a dash around the creature, jumping up and over the large table and making my way toward the kitchen.

Turning on all the gas stoves and ovens that I could find, I beckoned the creature in towards me with sharp whistles as if I was calling a dog in from a vast field. Through the open doorway I saw the table I'd just jumped over soar through the air across the dining room and splinter against the wall... I prepared myself with two more wine bottles.

"That's it... Come to me... I dare you." I tempted underneath my breath, seeing its sloshing leg come into view.

Heaving another bottle at stomach, it embedded the broken shards into its skin, enraging it even more. Kicking and banging on the counters to direct the blind monster over toward the stove in the middle, I began to silently slink off to the side when it got closer than I deemed comfortable. Taking the remaining bottle when I was safely in the doorway separating the kitchen from dining room, I aimed for the stove next to the one the monster was standing in front of, suspiciously sniffing the gas fumes in the air before whipping it through the air. I had a matter of seconds to dive toward the closest wall and protectively cover my head.

To my ears, the wails of the monster and explosion was equivalent to Grissom's symphonies by Mozart or Greg's Marilyn Manson.

Getting back to my feet, I wandered back into the kitchen, watching the flames crackle high and happily as they engulfed the kitchen steadily. The monster laid sprawled out in the middle of it all, and I locked eyes with it now that the rag around its yellowish golden eyes had all but burnt off. I was surprised to see its hand twitch up toward me and even more shell-shocked when it's blister infected lips seemed to turn up in a smile at me as if it was thanking me for killing it.

_Before my very eyes were visions flashing of a young boy dressed in rags with hair as golden as his eyes. The grin he sported on his face seemed to stretch ear to ear as he walked up to my side and took a light hold of my hand. At the connection of our hands, a feeling of literally losing a part of myself could not be ignored as a teenage girl seemed to separate from me. Sporting the same hair and eyes as the little boy, the pair walked off together and disappeared once through the door leading to the foyer._

My eyes rolled upward as a dizzy spell came over me. Shaking my head clear, I took another glance down the monster I had just taken one on one. _Did I really just do this?_ The monster's face was distorted in a look of utter pain, anguish, and fury with its teeth bared up at me.

On one hand, I recalled luring the thing into the dining room and setting everything to be as volatile as possible inside the room, and yet I also felt as if that was not me at the same time. And what was with that vision?

_Adrenaline._ I chalked it up to in my mind. _And it's just this damn house getting to my mind._

"Sara!"

_It's eyes **are** open though..._ I told myself, locking eyes with those golden orbs once again, entranced by them and the swirling fire inside. _But who was that little boy? He... felt familiarly._

A large and comforting hand that shared the same warmth as the fire dilating in front of me clasped my shoulder securely. The voice questioned my health status, to which I mumbled, "I'm fine". I allowed the two large arms envelope me in a hug, pressing me against a firm chest. My own lean and thin arms snaked around the mid-section, taking consolation in the body, in this being that held me now.

"Let's get out of here." Grissom's low voice rumbled in my ear.

Leading us through the door that had once been locked on me, I found myself inside the library. What I would've considered a sanctuary in my childhood days. But with the disheveled state this library was in with tipped bookcases, broken tables, and old bloodstains smeared across both the walls and floor, I found it impossible to absorb any sense of security anywhere in this room. Brass's lips upturned in a smile at me as we congregated together in our group once again.

"Everything okay in there, now?"

Dipping my head down in response, I took another glance over the room behind Brass. That air of uncertainty and dangerous swirled around me, warning me of something, though I was unable to put my finger on _what_ it was indicating. _Wasn't that **thing** back there enough of a trial to last myself as well as everyone else the whole night?_ I couldn't help but feel exasperated at the thought of yet another "Frankenstein-thought-up" monster thrown in our path for the umpteenth time this night.

I could feel Grissom and Brass's eyes burn acid holes through my back as I meandered deeper into the room. My heart tightened and dropped when I halted in the middle of the room between two collapsed study tables. The feeling became clearer.

A breath of air wafted past my cold lips, "Nick."

The sound of hollow banging abruptly resonated from my immediate left and the bookcases began to rock unsteadily back and forth, appearing like they'd topple any moment. Incoherent and frantic pleading cries could be heard when the bookcases leaned forward, only to muffle the pleads when it rocked backwards. I felt the pair's eyes leave my back momentarily before the three of us made our way to the bookcases, shoving the massive bookcases to either side.

Dropping to the floor above the incessant kicking noises and ear splitting screams, I slammed my fist against the cool wood. "NICK! NICKY IS THAT YOU?!"

My name ringed off the floor in response.

Hands scuttled across the floor in hopes of finding a weak spot in the boards, but for what felt like an eternity, came up empty handed. That is until Grissom slammed his fists down on the floor in his frustration and agitation and created a weak spot in the boards in the form of a gaping hole. With little time to marvel at Grissom allowing himself to lose his cool, we tore back the floorboards until we finally uncovered Nicky, and with it, the thing that had him backed up against the metal piping.

"Oh bullshit!" Brass yelled as one of the wiry creatures launched out and attached to Brass's front, knocking him backwards and onto his behind.

The only "normal abnormality" about this creature was its emaciated body figure. After having watched Lord of the Rings one too many times with Greg on our days off, I could've mistaken the thing in front of me now to be Gollum, with just a few more "adjustments". Where I found the mythological creature of Gollum to be so pitifully ugly that it was cute, this thing had no hope whatsoever with its neon bright glowing syringes injected and clustered all long its spiny back.

Temporarily leaving Nick's side, I punted the creature off of Brass only to see it fly back thirty feet into another bookcase. But instead of colliding with it, the creature was hasty enough to maneuver around so that it clung onto the case much like a spider would. It was only then that it's head snapped up and glared in my definite direction, staring at me with two of those syringes protruding out of its skull as a replacement for its eyes. A forked tongue slithered out of its mouth and coiled around the syringe in its left eye socket only to remove it with the bare strength of its tongue alone. And though I could easily see every movement this thing was making, it was less than a matter of seconds before the syringe was flying in my direction like a dart at a dartboard and that thing jumped up into the ceiling only to disappear into it, becoming one with it.

Ducking at the last possible moment, I gasped as I felt the very tip of the needle graze across the top of my shoulder. But my gasp was drowned out by the wails of agony that emitted off of Grissom behind me. Rolling onto my back then onto my knees, I saw Grissom promptly release Nick after aiding him out of the hole, and leaned against the nearest wall.

"Grissom!" Nick and I were by his side in a second, yanking out the searing hot syringe in the same moment. "Griss, c'mon speak!"

In a blur, Nick was thrown back all the way to the broken table and I was sure my eyes were deceiving me this time when I saw the result for it. Grissom. Now his blue eyes were turned on me, glowing as brightly as the syringe that I'd pried out of his back and focused on me with a deadly intent I'd never expected to find inside his blue orbs.

Dodging his hand that shot out for my throat, countering with a swift kick to the stomach, I stepped away still holding a fighting stance wondering when the Hell we were suddenly our own enemies.

"_And if we do not get you, surely your mind and the others will."_

"Grissom, don't make me hurt you..." I mumbled to the recovering lump on the floor otherwise known as my boss. Inching closer when I saw only slowed and disoriented movements, I immediately regretted it when his eyes sought out mine once more, still with that malicious glint inside of them. "Grissom..."

A gust of air swept past me as Brass confronted Grissom and yanked him up to his feet with his hands having a fistful of Grissom's shirt when he was standing. The tension rose between the two long time best friends as Nicky slinked up beside me, his back arched in pain and giving Grissom the weary eye.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" Brass was able to get in one last question before Grissom's hands clasped around Brass's shirt and was about to lift him up and off the ground until I intruded.

Tearing Brass away and slightly pushing the now angered homicide detective back towards Nick to restrain, I shoved Grissom back against the wall, attempting to hold him there with one of my hands to his chest. My other free hand seized his balled up hand and held it firmly down by our sides.

"Sara get away from him! He's not sane!" Nick called out in a grunt, still holding back Brass who was ready to let Grissom get a piece of his mind – and fist if he could help it.

My eyes never leaving Grissom's, I replied, "He won't hurt me!" _Or at least, that's what I'm counting on._ "Grissom, it's me. Sara... Get a hold of yourself."

The headlight glare in his eyes began to dull down to their original color and luster as I felt my old supervisor come back to us. I smiled into his palm when he ran his free hand over my cheek as if to check that I was real or that I was sincerely there. Relief flooded me and I felt the tension lessen behind me from Nick and Brass as Grissom uttered his apology, dripping with the shame I knew he felt.

"I didn't hit you, did I?" Grissom directed his question toward me.

"No, but you did throw Nick back into that table and tried to do the same thing to Brass." I responded, backing away to allow Grissom to gaze upon the sight of an achy Nick Stokes and anger flared Brass.

"You better have a damn good reason for turning on us, Gil." Brass seethed, forcing himself not to grit his teeth.

Grissom exhaled in exasperation, raising his arms only to drop them to his side again. "I don't know what came over me Jim... I didn't even have control over my thoughts, let alone my actions. I just felt that syringe hit my back and then the next thing I know, I'm looking at Sara while being pinned against the wall."

It was difficult to not smirk at that extremely candid statement, though my smirk had a bit of a reddish tint flooding into my cheeks. With the tension and hostility melting away into the floorboards, and the smell of smoke seeping in from the closed door in the front of the library, it was brought to our attention that there were more important tasks at hand.

_Such as not getting caught in a burning house._

"C'mon guys! On the map, there showed an 'alternate escape route' somewhere in here." Nick encouraged, already beginning a sweep of the room.

The library was considerably large when you consider that it was only a section inside this house. I suppressed a groan of disappointment and anxiety when I came up empty handed after a good solid four minutes of searching. And while I'd stripped a crime scene for hours straight more than once in my life, I never exactly had a growing fire heating my back up while I did my job. But it hadn't even been less than thirty seconds after my disappointment that Grissom and Brass renewed it with their shouts,

"We found it!"

Continuing to uneasily jerk and shove the hold grandfather clock to the side in back of the library, a small trap door presented itself in the floor just as Nick and I showed our faces.

"Let's get to the rest of the group before this fire makes the whole house cave in on us." Grissom announced as he pried open the squeaking and moaning door.

**TBC...

* * *

**

A/N2: Intense? Yay? Nay? YNAY?? Well, even though I don't religiously update this thing, it may be an equal longer time this time because I'm due in for surgery tomorrow and will be off the computer for some time... :( Yes I know, how WILL you survive without me? ;-) I think you'll manage. So, leave some of those reviews so I'll feel better when I'm half out of my mind on prescript drugs reading them! And a real quick thanks to Chloe for kicking my butt in gear and unknowingly helping me get over the writer's block I had. Ya da best Chloe, and ya didn't even know it! ;-) Later y'all...

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Okay, I had a little bit of humor towards the end of this chapter in a subtle way, but hey... What can I say? One of my bestest friends "Setheraus" is over right now so I can't help but add humor into whatever I do. Oh yeah, and I'M BACK... :) Leg is relatively better (THANKS TO ALL MY REVIEWS FOR LAST CHAPTER! I love you guys so much!) so sorry this chapter took a while. Busy busy busy! But whoever is left here, hope you enjoy this chapter! Oh yeah, and I change POV's a lot in this chapter, so pay attention!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Wishful. But no.

* * *

Chapter 11

* * *

Warrick's POV:

"Damn it, he was _right there_! I could've grabbed him!" With my fists making a good sized crater in the door, I stormed off to the other side of the room in a pace.

"Warrick, there was nothing you could've done. Nick was gone too quick for you to have gotten up and grab him." Catherine's voice came from somewhere behind me as I rested my head against cold metal pipes. "Don't blame yourself. Greg and I were closer and we didn't even have time to grab him."

"That damn monster was too powerful!" I refused to reply or even listen to her statements. How could I have let my best friend down?

"Warrick..."

Throwing up my hand in the signal for, "I don't want to hear it", I continued to rest up against the wall. For just a moment, I thought I'd heard Nick's voice calling out Grissom's name, but after a moment of collecting my sanity, I knew that my conscience was toying with me. As much as I wanted to remain optimistic and think that Nick had survive that monster who already had him blue in the face before he sucked him upwards, but reality's voice won out the screaming contest in my brain.

"Warrick we have to get out of here." Greg ventured to say, voice only slightly wavering. "We still need to find the others..."

"Grissom and Sara and Brass are still around here somewhere. Nick would want us to find them." Catherine backed up the slight man's comment.

There was no verbal reply, just the powerful blow of my fist against the creaking pipes.

"Hey!" A familiar Texan drawl was heard from behind. "Don't you bang your fist at the lady! What kind of gentleman are you?"

Twisting my head about, a slumped and battered yet smiling and surviving Texan criminalist named Nicholas Stokes leaned against the doorframe he'd just been dangling in front of five minutes ago with the remaining members of our team crowding behind him.

There was a collection of yells of the names of the people standing on the other side of the doorway from Greg, Catherine, and myself.

I felt his body run stiff as I enveloped him in a bear hug, not so much as caring about my pride or image as a guy at the moment, and heard the sharp hiss from his mouth. Quickly backing up, I took in the full extent of his injuries, head to toe.

"That thing really roughed you up, huh?"

A purely fear motivated glance was subconsciously sent over to Grissom just for a flash of a moment before turning back to me, nodding a little bit too hastily. "Yeah, damn thing had a Hell of a grip."

"I bet! The thing had arms like tree trunks!" Greg chorused. "I should know. The only reason I'm still on solid ground is because of Catherine, believe it or not."

"I hate to break up our reunion," Sara began after distractedly hugging Greg. "But the house is burning from the upstairs and working its way down. We need to get going."

There was very few words spoken after that statement as we all piled out of the laundry room and down the hall, following Grissom and Catherine's lead. The creaks and groans of the house and metal pipes did nothing but speed up our pace down the corridors, desperately looking for the boiler room that held our only way out of this house now.

"Another damn T-junction!" Brass growled, taking the offered map from Grissom. "It's not marked down--"

And just when I thought my heart couldn't take anymore unexpected drop in-s, it began raining ogre.

* * *

Nick's POV:

_God, this is getting old..._ I groaned outwardly as I collided with the stone wall back first as the ogre dropped in the middle of our entire group, having an explosion effect with all of us.

With my right arm extending outward and my fingers sinking into a thick crack in the wall, I attempted to get myself back to my feet. A dizzy spell fell over me when my back arched to help elevate me higher and I collapsed back down to the cold floor. Heavy lids weren't going unnoticed as well as I felt myself drifting off into a disturbingly peaceful sleep, the ground trembling underneath me with the ogre's growl and stomping.

Repeated and anxious calls of my name were yelled out as I felt someone throw my arm around their slight shoulders, dragging me aside. An immense whoosh of air passed the entire right side of my body as someone continued to jerk me aside, obviously not having the proper upper body strength to pull my weight.

"I got you Nicky..." A feminine voice grunted in my ear. "I got you."

My eyes rolled into the back of my head as I completely blacked out.

* * *

Catherine's POV:

"Warrick! Grissom!"

Stumbling back instead of jumping like I'd planned, I still got the task done of dodging the creature's pounding fist. Just around this overgrown tantrum throwing child stood Grissom and Warrick, still trying to figure how to maneuver around it without being killed. From what I could see, Brass, Greg, and myself had been thrown to the right side of the T-junction while Grissom and Warrick were tossed to the left. And though I couldn't see them, I knew Sara and Nick had been thrown backwards.

"Just go Catherine!" Grissom yelled above the monster's yells. "We'll find a way to reconnect all of us!"

I barely saw Grissom arm himself and Warrick with two wine bottles merged into a Molotov Cocktail before Greg and Brass tugged at my arm to run.

_Please stay safe...

* * *

_

Grissom's POV:

Hearing the three's retreating footfalls running down the corridor, the attention of the oversized ogre was concentrated solely on Warrick and I, armed and ready.

"Griss? What are we gonna do about blowing this bitch up?" Warrick asked with a slight tremor in his voice as we slowly backed up harmoniously, the creature now further plugging us into the narrowing hall.

"Don't worry about that, just aim for the face when he gets ready to charge." I replied in the calmest voice I could muster for the standing circumstance.

"Then what?" Even through the dark I could see the line of perspiration beading along his creased forehead.

"Run like Hell any way you can around him."

* * *

Sara's POV:

Internally, I was torn between getting Nick to safety and seeing if everyone else was all right. In the end, however, I found myself still dragging Nick across the floor to the closest doorway. Peering down the hallway back at that freakishly large thing, my panting breath blowing my thick chocolate hair out of my face, watching it disappear to the left of the T-junction hallway.

Propping Nick's deadweight body against the wall next to the door, I stood up once more and grabbed for the rickety old iron handle. And though the door was far from heavy, I stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed something underneath a dusty covered board. Brushing it off with the palm of my hand, I uncovered the metal scratched words.

_Mental Patients Holding Cells: Authorized Personnel Only._

Swallowing whatever remaining fear I had after the case I worked with Grissom in the mental institution as well as visits to my Mother's institution as a small child, I jerked the door open and continued to haul Nick's motionless body inside the even narrower hallway. If I still knew psyche wards, there had to be the medical examination room around here somewhere.

* * *

Greg's POV:

My heart was about to pop out of my chest. I couldn't even remember my high school gym teacher pushing me _this_ hard.

Well, he'd be proud of me now.

Truth be told, I _did_ feel guilty about leaving everyone behind while we got a cheap get away. Hell, I think all three of us shared that emotion, but there was just the simple fact. We weren't going to get around that wall called this Hellhole's guardian so the only other option was to go the long way around it. I was still wincing at the sight sprinting through my mind of seeing everyone get thrown back – Nick and Sara hitting the stone walls while Warrick and Grissom just hit the floor with the wind knocked out of them. And my back was on fire from Catherine sandwiching me between the floor and herself when she was tossed aside.

I could feel the heat rising all around us as smoke began to drift down into the basement from the upstairs. I remember Sara saying the place had caught fire but it hadn't worried me until now.

_Just how much of a time window did we have? Would it be enough? Will all of us make it? Who's not going to make it?_

The same questions about the same bleak subject ran through my mind. Even running, I couldn't escape the thoughts.

We turned down of the last halls there was to turn before we ran into Grissom and Warrick most likely. It was a mad dash after a horrified and abrupt stop seeing that same monster snatch up Warrick with one hand while it brushed away something from its face, wailing in pain. We could see Warrick wriggling around in the thing's grip, frantically trying to ease himself out of the vice grip. From the other side of the monster, we saw Grissom smash a wine bottle against its leg before impaling it with the broken neck.

And half way down the hallway, we encountered yet another dilemma to add onto our palate. Two doors from slightly behind us flung open and let loose red eyed demons that snatched us into the two rooms, Brass and Catherine to the one to the left while I was carried off to the right, tearing at the walls and door frame to try and pull myself out of their strangely strong grip.

I landed with an _Oomph_ on the bone-chilling floor as a swinging overhead lamp flicked on, blinding me from the sudden change in brightness. Jumping to my feet as quickly as my body would allow, I began to wish the light had never come on and I'd never gotten up as I realized I was surrounded on all sides by scythe-wielding imps, red eyes gleaming with sadistic intent.

* * *

Brass's POV:

Biting my lip while I strained not to give these surrounding creatures the most exaggerated eye roll of my life, I felt my fist clench into white knuckle balls.

I was fed up with being pushed around as much as I was being shoved this night. Hell, I couldn't remember being shoved around this much since my drinking days back in Jersey when I'd pick reckless fights, of course drunk, with all the local scumbags lined down the bar like ducks in a row, then getting knocked around by the bouncers. The mistakes of my youth.

But now, this had nothing to do with bouncers or my now nullified drinking problem. It was just plain and pure annoying, and this was the last straw.

I could almost feel Catherine's horrified glance on my back as I marched straight towards the guarded door, prepared to take a sober swing if one of these beasts jumped at me. My ridged left hand unclenched for a moment just as one of them launched its hideous red-gleamed eyed self at me just to capture it by its neck before throwing it recklessly to the side, colliding with a few others to my right. And like a child throwing a temper tantrum, I punted the only one that blocked my path to the door, sending the wailing creature soaring into the wall.

If any expression or emotion was distinguishable on their bony shaped faces, I could've swore it was utter surprise to the fact that I was not succumbing to them. Smirking, I called an equally bewildered and baffled Catherine Willows as I approached the door.

Jiggling at the jammed door for a moment, it cracked open with a parched sound a second later, where upon I ushered Catherine and myself out, leaving motionless and gaping things in our wake.

_So much for intimidating... _I thought to myself as I shut the door behind me. _But at least we know they've got some intelligence for giving up that quickly.

* * *

_

Warrick's POV:

With the help of Grissom distracting this thing that had me captive, all that remained was to free my calves and feet before I was home free from the thing's grip. I could already feel the dead tingly sensation pricking at my feet and I was willing to beat any amount of money to say that they were blue right now.

I sustained a rueful smile for a moment. _If Nick was here right now, he'd take me up on that bet too... I hope Sara dragged him off to someplace safe._

A cement splitting whistle was sent my way, though it was most likely directed to my captor from no one else besides Jim Brass, standing in front looking smug as always. In all my years, good and bad, of knowing the homicide captain, I'd never had a singular moment in time where I felt as happy to see him as I did now.

"Hey, why don't you try picking on someone with the same stomach size as you?" Brass extended his arms, palms up in a challenging stance as he began to roll up the sleeves to his typical attire. "You out do me by a mile, but I'm not about to complain."

_Oh Hell no, don't make this thing toss me aside like I'm a damn rag doll._ I groaned as Brass continued to provoke the beast.

Somewhere far down the hall, I just took notice of a tugging and fit figure, fighting with door or something. My heart began to pound, or perhaps that was just from the adrenaline? Didn't matter much, I figured as I continued to try and weasel my way out of the giant hand. It was giving me the extra strength I needed to get the Hell out.

I was just trying to recover my last foot when my worst fear was confirmed and Mr. Beast there, threw me over his shoulder like a child that suddenly lost interest in a toy. But it was a definite plus that I, at the most, twisted my ankle. Nothing I couldn't handle.

A helping hand reached down like it was the Hand of God. Trailing the arm back up to its owner's face, I saw my all-too-familiar supervisor, the most welcome sight I could get right now. Getting our way back to the slowly advancing giant, I followed Grissom's lead when he wrapped his arms around the thing's ankle and yanked backwards with all our strength. And fortunately, for once tonight, it was enough to make things fall down.

I felt Grissom hold me back with one hand on my shoulder and one on my chest as we awaited some type of response, but when there was none for a particularly long couple of seconds, I received a satisfactory pat on the back as Grissom began to walk around the body of the monster, me tailing behind in tow. My face cringed in sympathy for the monster, however, when I saw its face. It had completely caved in. Instant death.

_Huh. He should be as lucky._

"Ugh, guys! I can't get..." A few more grunts were heard from Catherine down the hall as she continued her efforts to pry the door open. "this damn door open! Hold on Greg!"

Mumbling a quick, "_shit_" under my breath as I took off at a slight limp down the hall, Brass and Grissom followed, if not passed me. From the other side of the door, I could hear Greg screaming and yelling. Gently brushing Cath aside, I squeezed the handle with my right hand as I rammed the door with my shoulder, the intensity of the blow increasing each time.

"Greg! Get to the door to help me open it!" I bellowed through the door.

"I CAN'T!"

"Sanders, they're pushovers! Just kick them out of your way!" Brass was the next to advise, banging his fist on the door a few times before listening with a drooped head.

"These things have scythes! Are you _crazy_?!"

Brass and I shared a harmonious eye roll and aggravated growl. "Hey Greg! Just do it! We need someone who small enough who can slip through the window so we can go get Sara! She needs you, man! Are you gonna let her down? Let her and Nick down?"

I was certain I felt the glare of Grissom's blue eyes on my back while everything else went silent. I slightly jumped as I heard the crashes inside and then the hurried steps of Greg inside as he collided with the door. Not even a millisecond later, the banging ensued.

"Greg! Push against the door!" I instructed, taking the lead. "We'll pull."

"HURRY!"

The four of us made a group effort on the outside while Greg offered his assistance on the inside, rapidly throwing himself into the door most likely as whatever creatures that were locked inside with him drew closer.

A cry of surprise escaped all of our lips as we fell back when the door flew open, leaving Greg to scramble out, not even falling to the floor as he made an abrupt turn around and slammed the door shut before anything could escape, panting fast and heavy.

"Okay, where's Sara?" Greg asked as he held his back against the door.

"Let's go. I remember seeing a doorway a little ways back before we hit the T-junction." I reported, looking around at all the faces. "That's gotta be where she took Nick off to."

"'Gotta be'...? Wait a second!" Greg said as soon as his mind clicked to the fact that we'd tricked him. "That was dirty!"

"Got you out, didn't it?" Catherine pointed out, as we all began hurrying back down the path we came. "Let's just make sure Sara and Nick can say the same thing."

**TBC...

* * *

**

A/N2: So yes... Gotta announce though... This story will be coming to the difficult close some time in the near future. I'll reserve the "Epilogue" question until the last chapter, so other than that, I believe I've said my piece! Night y'all...

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hee hee hee... I know, I was a bad little author for not updating in so long, wasn't I? Yes, I know. But here it is. I was contemplating putting an end to the story right here, but... Just couldn't do it. Next chapter is the last and maybe if someone somewhere wants me to, I'll do an epilogue.

Disclaimer: Heh, funny. You think I own CSI. Heh. Heh.. They didn't give you enough medication at the psychiatrist's office, did they?

* * *

Chapter 12

* * *

Sara's POV:

If it was possible, the darkness surrounding us from the holding cells increased ten fold as I dragged Nick down the narrow corridor. Defeating the overwhelming urge to check behind each holding cell door out of safety, I eventually arrived at the wooden door at the end of the corridor, in a pant and sweating.

Struggling to not inhale or ingest the thick dust that shot out of the room I was about to drag Nick into, I managed to haul his hefty body just a little further, my nails already ripping holes into the back of his shirt. Unintentionally dropping his body a little more carelessly than I deemed nice, I stood up straight once more to stretch out my back, wincing as my whole body was racked with pain from both the impact and then taking Nick to safety. I glanced down at the Texan.

_He better appreciate this and pay for my chiropractor bill when I get back._ I felt a small smile slip onto my lips as I looked up and around.

Even through dense darkness, I could see the square cabinets up on the walls with chipping red crosses. Broken down and mattress-less cots were in neat rows up and down the room, and without a doubt, rusty considering the amount of mold I smelled in the air. The room as a whole made a perfect L shape. The two parallel rows of cots took the long side of the L straight ahead of us and to the left was the medical supplies and equipment, as well as sinks that I prayed worked.

Leaving Nick as was, I made my way over to the closest medicine cabinet. Squinting, I sighed in relief a moment later when I discovered that a flashlight was on the bottom row, and I smiled a moment later when I discovered that it was operable. Dim, but better than nothing.

Going through the pill bottles, I came across several medicines I couldn't identify. I figured that if I couldn't identify it, it was unidentifiable for a reason and promptly placed it back. It was some time until I came upon your common everyday painkillers. Unfortunately, inside the bottle only two plain white pills remained. Searching every other cabinet, four in total, I found nothing. And by the time I closed the last cabinet, Nick was beginning to rouse from his slumber and obviously in a great deal of pain.

"Hold on Nick," I called as I moved to the faucet and turned the dial.

A strong stream of water poured into the sink, first rust colored but then clearing into normal water. Grabbing a nearby beaker, I washed out the dust and filled it up as Nick's grunts and groans grew louder. Testing the water first for rust, not wanting to poison my friend, I was mildly dumbfounded to find that there wasn't a hint of iron. Going back to Nick's side on the floor, clutching the beaker and two pills, I propped his head upon my lap and told him gently to take the pills. Shaky fingers clutched the small pills before throwing them far back into his mouth, snatching next for the beaker. Nick's lips greedily reached for the water, willing more to go down faster.

Nick released a breath afterwards as he placed the beaker down. "Thanks Sara."

"Anytime Nicky," helping him up into a sitting position, I sat cross legged beside him. "Y'know, you gotta start laying off so much meat. You're getting too heavy to even drag around."

With a hand gliding over his hair, I saw that sheepish smile of his. "Yeah, and thanks for that too. I would've been wallpaper if it wasn't for you."

Dismissively brushing it away, we just continued to sit there. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach as I remembered everyone else we'd left back there. It was only minutes later when we heard the momentous crash outside and down the hall, causing Nick and I just to stop breathing, if only for a minute. Getting to our feet, we took leave of the medical room, myself being slower than Nick who was under the influence of the painkillers.

Making our way down the hall and past the menacing cells, we reached the exit and pulled just as another force from the outside pushed in. Moving back, I was soon surrounded by the body of which I knew as Greg Sanders.

"SARA!"

I would've laughed, had Greg's hair not blocked my nose and mouth. My arms fanned out like I was avoiding touching the young CSI before slowly closing in to pat him on the back before peeling him back.

"Okay Greg, calm down!" I sputtered out as Warrick held him in place with a giant hand on his shoulder. "You act like you haven't seen me in years."

"Are you guys all right?" Grissom asked as he stepped forward, and it seemed only I noticed how his arms hesitantly raised up towards me before dropping back to his side promptly.

"We're fine... How'd y'all deal with that thing out there?" Nick's voice alerted me that other people were still around.

"Believe it or not, Griss saved the day." It was hard to retain my laughter at the sight of Grissom death glaring Warrick for his comment. "Well, you did, man!"

Brushing off the comment, Grissom's blue eyes cruised around the hallway for the first time. "Are these the holding cells?"

Humming in reply, I stopped halfway through the sound as I recalled exactly _where_ the escape route began. Inside one of these holding cells.

Just goes to figure. The only way out has got to be in one of the menacing places out of this entire house.

* * *

Catherine's POV:

Taking out the antique key from my pant pocket, I turned to the right and tried the lock. It slipped in but never turned. "We're in the right hall. It's gotta be one of these doors."

A beam of light shined over the lock before concentrating on the area slightly above it. An emblem was burned smoothly into the metal. It didn't match the key's four leafed clover type emblem at the top of the key. Diverting over to the other nearby locks, it was discovered that _none_ of them had the same emblem, though each was different from the next.

"We gotta find this emblem." Nick stated as he took the key from me and continued on down the hall, Sara trailing behind him to shine the only light remaining on each lock.

It was about four doors to the opposite end of the hall when we finally found the correct emblem. There was a harmonious sigh through out our entire group and smiles were thrown about like candy at the thought of getting the Hell out of here as Nick pushed the key into the designated hole. The door seemed to glide open but only to present us with a smell that rated a five on my Gag-O-Meter. But Nick seemed to be putting it on an eleven from his reaction.

* * *

Nick's POV:

Dropping the key, it was hardly heard above my petrified yells. I fell through the mass of my friends, trying to get as far away as possible. I tried to blink it away, but after five tries, I figured that it had to be real, despite the concerned and non-sickened faces of my faces.

_They've gotta be crazy..._ My mind rationalized as I dared another glance inside the padded, blood covered room. _How can you **not** react to THAT?_

In the middle of room full of high velocity arterial spray, pads, and rats, lay a squirming body. It wouldn't have been all that bad if everything from the waist down and arm limbs were existent. Pleading and glazed over eyes pleaded with me to kill him as the rats chomped down on his exposed flesh. His blood swirled into a tiny drain in the center of the room, and it amazed me that he was still alive.

"_Help... Me..._"

I couldn't get any further away from the body when my back hit the cold metallic door across the narrow hall, and yet it wasn't enough.

* * *

Warrick's POV:

Looking from my disturbed best friend to back into the room, seeing the skeletal remains of someone's body with peacefully sleeping rats napping inside the skull, I couldn't see the point in Nick freaking out. Not that it was a natural sight to see, but it wasn't the worst considering our line of work.

But there was such a fear in his eyes that I couldn't even understand. _What the Hell's wrong with this guy?_

"Nick... What's wrong, man?"

But his brown eyes didn't even look up at me. Just straight ahead at the skeleton. I double checked to make sure I wasn't missing anything. Sure, once again, there was cryptic messages written across the wall most likely in the decease's blood, but once again, was it _that_ bad?

There were just some things I didn't get about that guy.

* * *

Nick's POV:

I willed my body to speak when I heard Warrick's voice, but the writhing body held my eyes captive. Then I began to doubt whether or not Warrick had said anything or not.

A moment later I noticed six foot five towering being enter the padded room, squeezing between Grissom and Sara. Hefty boots that looked like they were made for fishing stomped around the body as he seemed to circle it like a vulture scoping out its prey. The torso and head thrashed about in an effort to get away from it, but to no avail as this unknown man kicked him back in.

"Get away from him!" I cried out, hesitantly taking a step forward before receding back to the wall.

Both of them stopped and looked up. The decapitated man with pained and widening eyes and the man with daring eyes.

That's when I saw the withdrawal of the revolver from the man's holster.

* * *

Sara's POV:

"Get away from him!"

"Nicky, _what are you seeing?_" I questioned, taking a step to peer into the room. A skeleton. Nothing we hadn't seen before.

His back seemed to be glued to that door. Walking further in, I stood behind the stationary skeleton, looking down at it and then back up at Nick with questioning eyes. If it was possible, his eyes grew even bigger a moment later as he bolted from his current place against the door across the hall into the room, knocking me backwards and into the wall. It was as if he was protecting me from some unknown and invisible force as Nick kept me against the wall and took swings at the air. It was like watching a kid play imaginary sword fights when they were little, fighting off the dragon and saving the princess. Except, Nick was no little child and I wasn't a princess that needed rescuing.

"NICKY!"

It was very bizarre. And from the looks on everyone else's faces, they didn't know what to make of it either.

* * *

Nick's POV:

I kept between that man and Sara the entire time. But damn was he fast. Every punch I threw at him, he seemed just to be able to dodge it. But there was no way in Hell I was gonna let him get to Sara or that guy. No way.

I heard Sara call out my name several times, but that only heightened my desire to protect the brunette. I was dumbfounded that no one else was bothering to help me. They just stood there with a confused look about their faces like I was crazy.

_Fine... I'll just protect Sara myself._ I gritted, rearing my arm back for the heaviest and fastest punch I had.

And just a second later, I came crashing through the other side of the man, hitting the ground hard.

* * *

Brass's POV:

I sat back in bemusement at the Texan CSI. I could see him fighting for everything he had, but it was literally for nothing. There _was_ nothing to fight, and you could see that Sara was getting aggravated with Nick's fooling around. Though there was nothing kidding about his face as he threw all he had into one more punch which had him colliding with the floor.

As serious as everything was, I couldn't help but laugh. The humor obviously reached everyone else in varying degrees. Everyone except for the clueless Nick Stokes who lifted his head and looked around.

"All right Sir Nick Stokes, you get that imaginary dragon!" Catherine tried to stifle back the laughter in her comment. "Show that dragon who's boss."

An aggravated growl came out of him. "Where the Hell did he go?"

"Who, Nick?" I questioned, looking around the room and hallway for anyone outside of our group. "There's no one besides us."

There was a stuttering sound emitting from him as he scrambled to his feet, staring at the same skeleton, completely mystified. That's when I realized this was no laughing matter to Nick.

"But this was... And Sara was... Then that guy..." Nick's sentences died out with very attempt.

Sara approached him and took a hand to either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Nick... _What_ guy?"

"There was this six foot five guy that came in here and there was a body of a guy getting eaten alive by rats! And you just stepped in the middle of it!" Nick's nerves caused him to slightly yell as he pulled back, running a hand repeatedly through his hair with his other hand on his hip.

Warrick entered the room before grabbing Nick around the neck, gently rocking him back in forth in what looked like a comforting brotherly way. "C'mon, let's get you outta here before you get anymore crazier, all right?"

Nick managed to stutter out a, "Yeah" before the three of them stripped down the room, looking for this escape route out. The rats scurried out and down the hall after being disturbed. Poor things looked starved as one of them stopped to nibble at the sole of my shoe. That didn't stop me from shaking the little bastard off though.

After they were finished with ripping down the blood-encrypted walls, it was discovered that a dug out hold in the concrete floor nursed a makeshift trap door. Warrick, being the tallest, jumped down first, which judging by his _Oomph_ sound was still a ways down for a six foot one guy.

"You okay down there?" Sara called on her hands and knees, her head and neck disappearing into the hole.

"Yeah, not too bad. Damn does it smell down here though." The deep and echoing voice bellowed back up. "Have two people lower everyone in though, and I'll catch them. It's still a long drop."

Catherine, Gil, Greg, and I soon joined the torn up room, Gil and I sharing a look as we took up residence beside the hole. There was no fussing or fighting as Catherine stepped up first. Taking either of her hands, the two of us lowered her into the hole toward Warrick. Next was Greg then Nick, though I can't say I was as "proper" with the guys as I was with Catherine or Sara, who was last next to Gil and myself. I noted how much more... delicate Gil was as he stretched as far down as he could before letting go. I rolled my eyes at my ornery old friend as we stood up straight.

"After you." Gil quirked.

"Oh, catch me dear." I called down toward Warrick sarcastically, sending Gil an annoyed glance.

"Damn, group effort!" Warrick chuckled below.

* * *

Greg's POV:

It felt good to be able to laugh again, despite our strange predicament. It felt as if humor was all we had left to tie us to our sanity now.

After Grissom was down, however, it was like a ticking time bomb with this blazing house.

It was a no-brainer that we had to go straight. I could say that much and I haven't even looked at the damn map. Though to Nick's obvious discomfort, the path was narrow to the point that we were in a single file line and it didn't allow much head room for Nick or myself, but even less for Grissom and Warrick.

_God this must've took forever to dig out back then._ I found myself commenting to myself.

The soil above us became unsteadily moist after some distance, and my greatest present fear of being under the lake that sheltered that... THING that attacked Grissom and Sara earlier. I shuddered as I recalled the decapitated bear head. I continued to duck _especially_ low until the ground above us became dry again.

Everyone's pace quickened the further we got. By the time we came close to an up hill slope that was supposed to lead us to our exit, we were at a full sprint. Warrick took up the front, pulling the most weight while Grissom picked up the slack in the back. The slope had reached almost completely vertical and it had gotten to the point where we were hanging off each other so we wouldn't lose anyone. Catherine had her arms wrapped around Warrick's waist with Nick grabbing Cath about the waist with one arm while he pushed upward with his free hand. Brass was clutching Nick's left shoulder with one hand while, to my discomfort and Brass's annoyance most likely, I was left with hanging onto both of his shoulders. The only other person besides Grissom that made me nervous was Brass. But it was all compensated for with Sara's arm wrapped around my... chest.

_Okay, not as low as I would've hoped for, but hey._ I shrugged.

And I knew behind Sara was Grissom, probably not holding her at all but likely to have her pressed against his chest for support... Lucky guy.

* * *

Catherine's POV:

Feeling Warrick's muscles tense underneath my grasp, I couldn't tell which had my heart racing more: Being this close to him or the fact that I could see the clear starry night sky just ahead. I wasn't expecting the latter, though.

The dirt crumbled as it turned to cool soft sand and soon Warrick was propping himself out of the hole and onto the beach. Nick was pushing impatiently behind me, sandwiching me into Warrick's body even more.

_Thank you Nicky..._

"Okay okay, calm down there, will you?" Warrick grunted as he pulled himself and me up and out of that hole.

One by one, after catching our breath, we removed our friends from the hole. We were just about down to Greg when Sara's cries behind him could be heard.

"Grissom!"

Scuttling and the deteriorating of the sand tunnel walls were heard as I briefly saw Sara release her grip of Greg only to turn around to grab onto the falling Grissom. With Nick and myself pulling Greg through the hole to the surface, Warrick and Brass all but threw themselves back down the hole in high hopes of grabbing Sara before the two of them dropped down that near vertical fall.

_We're nearly outta this Hellhole... C'mon, we can't lose anyone now._ I thought frantically as I stood there helplessly.

The calls of all four of them were incoherent and muffles, therefore adding nothing but a sharper edge to my nerves. That's when everything – along with everyone – just stopped. Aside from the lapping of the lake waters against the beach shore, there was another – much more deafening – water source that seemed to be coming from the direction of the hole everyone seemed to be shoved down.

Then there was the unmistakable bellows of Brass and Warrick and the thuds of two bodies falling down that steep tunnel we'd all scaled together. And finally, the collapse of the tunnel as I surmised only resulted from the pond near the mansion buckled through the floor and into the tunnel.

"Everyone, form a chain!" I commanded, yanking the two men up and out of the hole and getting down to my stomach, preparing to be lowered in. "There's no time to waste!"

**TBC...

* * *

**

A/N2: Yeah, I had to leave you there. Just HAD to. Why? Because I'm just me, that's why! Oh yeah, and by the way, this update is dedicated to one of the only "semi-flamers" I got this entire story... Rosie: You're words inspired me to write faster. And while I thank you for saying that I was a good writer, the fact that you said this was the "WORST.STORY.EVER." was what moved me the most. What you thought would stop me from continuing this, in fact, caused me to write faster than ever before:) So, everyone, please, give it up for Rosie, because without her, I don't believe I would've ever updated this fast!

Now, it wouldn't be fair to just call Rosie out for her review, now would it? Here's to the rest of y'all.

hanily: Okay, just for you, I attempted Snickers this chapter. I truly did. I hate to say it, but I'm just not cut out for writing Snickers. :( Sorry if I disappointed you. I did try. Sincerely! But you were asking a GSR lover to write Snickers. But I'm glad you loved the Nick angst. I think it's hot too. :)

wraiths-angel: Well, I'm glad you found this and you liked it! Here's more for your viewing pleasure!

anniehiltner: Heh, thanks! Glad to know that someone loves this fic!

GregSanders: Ooo don't hit yourself in the head too hard (for not finding this fic sooner!) Hit yourself too hard and you'll have brain damage and won't be able to continue reading and that'll be one less reviewer! Heh heh I love messing with Greg's head... Why? Because... Well, he's Greg! Duh.

MYSTICAL PANTHER: Aww you didn't use caps on your review last chapter. (Yes, that made me sad.) Lol. As always, however short and sweet your reviews are, I love them!

maggie: Heh, if this story freaked you out, then my job is accomplished. :D Yeah, those two little girls won't be going away anytime soon. On the contrary, just when the CSIs least expect it, those little girls will be back to haunt them... O.o... Heh, I'll keep up the good work so long as you're there to review!

marciejayo:D :D :D :D I'm happy you love my fic. Your truly will only put in a thousand percent effort, or your review back, free of charge:)

xVirlomi: I'm glad you made my story an exception for your, "No Horror genre reading" standards. I was tryna find something to call original for CSI, and at the time, I'd been playing Resident Evil games. I didn't wanna put in zombies and all that cliché... stuff... so I got creative. :) Yeah, y'know I had to throw Brass's POV in there. (You're right, he really is ignored.) By the way... I love your pen name. I don't know why, but I love it! Lol, yes, I'm weird.

Zozzykins: Heehee, Yes, I love my GSR fluff too. And it's good that you're reading like Hell. I need people like you! Well, you said you can't wait for more... Can you wait for the ending?

SA-Kate-937: Well well well... Look who's back to reviewing, huh? Nah, I understand. Besides the operation, the only thing that kept me from writing was school too, so I understand totally. Just glad you're reviewing now. As for the soppy ending, meh, you may never know what to expect out of me. _I_ don't even know what I'm gonna do just yet. But I promise I won't let you down! And now... Here's the question that you've been patiently waiting to answer... Should I do an epilogue:)

Well, that's all folks... Off to do some ish and then some more ish and... Yeah. You get it. ;) Hit me up!

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: A short, sweet ending that kinda covers a lotta bases... C'mon, for those of you who've been around the block with me on my stories... Did you expect anything less? Thought not.

Disclaimer: I don't own them! GAWD!

* * *

Chapter 13

* * *

Grissom's POV:

Sara, though considerably light in weight, did nothing to aid me in holding onto the crumbling sides of the tunnel we'd previously been scaling. Somewhere far behind us, I heard the rushing currents of water racing toward us. Every attempt I made to get Sara and myself toward the exit of the tunnel only resulted in me nearly losing all gripping and falling back.

"Sara, honey, c'mon..." I urged softly, feeling sweat breaking out along my forehead. "I've got you, but you need to move on your own now... Please honey."

From above us, we heard the echoes of Catherine's voice as a figure lowered herself further down the hole. "Griss! Sara! Where are you?"

With the weight of Sara off of me, I recovered the lost ground a little more rapidly with Sara pulling her own weight. I could sense the water was approaching us faster and faster as I gently prodded Sara closer as the details to Cath's face became clearer. Sara reached as far as her arms would permit for Cath's outstretched hands. I sighed with contentment as I saw Catherine take a hold of Sara's hands as the two women were dragged out of the hole. But by now, the water that had been closing in behind me finally caught up and was beginning to make its ascent up the tunnel.

I didn't even have to do the proper math within my mind to know that if that water hit me, I'd enter a realm of pain I hadn't known in quite a long time.

My hands and feet tore at the crumbling walls that shook violently beneath them in a desperate attempt to get further up and out the hole. I could practically feel the mist from the water coating my neck as I closed my eyes, bracing for something I knew I'd never be prepared for.

Just as I was prepared for the water to slam against me and most likely break my spine, I felt hands clamp onto my shirt and pluck me up and out of the hole just as I felt the wall of water splash on my back.

* * *

Nick's POV:

It was much like an explosion when I pulled Grissom from what could've easily been his death. Eerily, it reminded me too much of when I'd been entrapped in that box and Grissom had rescued me. The tunnel we'd all just crawled out of spouted like Old Faithful with the swampy and moss green water from the small pond near the mansion.

We all sat back on the beach in awe and astonishment as we were rained on by water that seemed to be dropped from the sky. The first one to move was Sara as she scrambled a few feet across the sand and tightly embraced an awe-struck Grissom who could only wrap his arms about her flaccidly as Sara buried her face into the crook of his neck. I couldn't contain the small, sad and forced smile as I laid back on the beach, splayed out from utter exhaustion.

I watched the stars dance above me and around the moon. I couldn't remember a time when I found the moon to be such an inviting sight before now. And even as everyone else around me became more active, standing up and hugging one another and cheering loudly, I just laid there with a small smile on my face, observing the night sky.

Abruptly the silhouette of Sara appeared above me, drawing her hair behind her ears as she stared down at me with a great grin splayed across her lips. She got me to my feet and hugged me tight.

"We did it Nicky!" She cheered loudly. "And we're all out of it alive because of you!"

There was something hollow about my voice that spooked even me. "Yeah, we maybe out of the house, but we're not off the island yet."

Everyone seemed to hear and acknowledge my words as the rejoicing quieted down quickly. My eyes followed Greg as he ran off toward the brush of the forest surrounding the Hellhole we'd just escaped from. After a few minutes, Greg produced a log-tied raft from his search. I was not the only questioning person amongst us as we helped him drag the raft closer.

"C'mon now, what person would make and map out an escape route only to have no transportation away from where they're running away from?"

Though the raft was no big, only enough to fit Catherine, Sara, Greg, and myself at best, but only buoyant enough to keep Catherine, Sara, Greg, Grissom and myself, we came to the agreement that Brass, Cath, Grissom and Sara would ride while the rest of us swam. The fear in Greg's eyes and the quavering of his chin and bottom lip was priceless as Warrick and I hauled the raft toward the island's shore. As soon as the logs touched the water and Brass was preparing to step on, we were all caught in what seemed like a sand storm for a split second.

Backing away before I had even re-opened my eyes, the sight that greeted them was two pale and seething girls perched upon the raft. Black eyes bore into every single one of us accusingly. Their eyes picked through everyone, one at a time, sparks flying and growing from their fingertips. I had the right mind to turn and run while I still could, but I was rooted in place with awe as Greg calmly stepped forward and approached the two girls.

"Greg, what are you _doing?_" I whispered harshly as he bent down to eye level with them. "You're gonna get yourself killed, man!"

As Greg peered over his shoulder at me, I saw nothing but understanding in his eyes. No paralyzing fear, no confusion. Simply understanding. He turned back without a single word but reached within his jacket to retrieve something.

* * *

Greg's POV:

Plucking the doll from the inner pocket to my jacket, I observed it. The once white cloth had taken a brownish tan to it and time had taken it's toll on the seams as one arm dangled lifelessly, so close to being fully severed. The stitched smile, however, remained and with the help of the moonlight, I could easily see my reflection in the black button eyes.

I had woken up in the bedroom with it before we were all called over to Grissom's and Sara's room to discuss the escape route. I had considered leaving it behind, but there was something about the black button eyes that begged me to bring it with me.

Suddenly, I was glad I had.

Smoothing back the yarn hair, I stared back up at the two little girls. Two sets of black eyes, glistening with tears now, glanced down at the doll in my hands longingly. Flipping the doll over, I read the embroidery stitched into the length of the doll's backside.

_Sarah_

Peering up again, I saw that the two girls had held out their dolls in return to show me the embroidery as well. One read "Elizabeth" while the other read "Martha". Giving them one of my famous Greg Sanders Smiles, I handed the doll to the one named Elizabeth.

Almost on cue, far back from deep in the woods, a voice called out, "Elizabeth! Martha! Where are you?"

The two girls' eyes perked up and searched the woods urgently, and I turned on my heels – still crouching – to see the rustling of the bushes as a third identical girl emerged with searching eyes. It took a second or more before they settled on her sisters, but by that time, the two girls had already taken off at a sprint from behind me after their sister.

Walking up beside Nick and Warrick, I watched with a broad smile as the triplets hugged and the two returned the long lost doll to its proper owner. "Sarah" gazed back at me with a smile and twinkling eyes, and to me, I'd never seen a more perfect kid.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I spoke. "They just wanted to see their sister again..." I said softly as we all watched them disappear into the woods, hands linked together. "They should be good now."

"Well, while they're off skipping through the forest, I say we make a run for it, okay?" Brass advised as he stepped on the raft once more. "Damn mansion," he muttered underneath his breath before pointing at me accusingly while helping Cath get on. "Y'know Sanders, this whole ordeal was _your_ fault!"

"_My_ fault? How do you figure that one?" I argued, turning back to him now with incredulous eyes.

Taking Sara by the hand, he helped her on while replying. "Yeah, who said, 'What have we got to lose,' and, 'It's our only chance'? We could've easily walked around the other side of the island and swam from there. But _no_... _You_ had to suggest we try to spend the night in that damn mansion."

"I didn't _tell_ everyone they _had_ to go. I just said that there was a place to stay away from the outside. No one _had_ to follow me." I shot back defiantly with my hands telling the story for me.

"You're the runt of the group, though." Brass groaned as he watched Grissom get on, earning an eye roll from Grissom. "Wherever you go, everyone else is sure to follow just to ensure you don't get yourself killed!"

I put my fists on my hips like my Mother used to do when I was little as I watched him settle down on the raft himself. "But that doesn't mean it was _my fault_."

Two identical and simultaneous slaps on my back were felt from Nick and Warrick as the four of them began paddling off, using flat pieces of wood as their paddles. "Give it up, Greggo." The Texan smiled brightly at me. "You lost it before you even started."

"Get to swimming, Greg!" Warrick called over his shoulder as the two bound off for the water, plunging in head first, leaving me behind on the beach.

I felt stark naked and vulnerable as I stood on the shore, watching all my friends head toward the rock wall that lead to the highway. Slightly hunched over and my eyes darting in every direction suspiciously. In the background, in addition to the rustling of the trees and the wind howling through them, came the playful cackling of the three girls, making my hair stand on end now that I was alone.

"Hey guys! Wait up!" I called after them as I sprinted into the water and plunging head first before catching up with Warrick and Nick and the raft.

* * *

Sara's POV:

Digging one set of fingers into the gaps of the raft, I reached out for the jagged rock wall with my free hand. It was beyond difficult to maintain a steady balance under the shifty and sliding raft hovering above the cold nighttime waters of Lake Mead. Seeking out the closest body that was near me, Grissom's, I grabbed the shoulder of his shirt with the hand that had once clutched so desperately to the logs that kept the four of us afloat. Smiling nervously, I concentrated on the situation at hand.

Attaching myself to the rock wall after I found stable residing positions for my hands and feet, I began to feel around awkwardly for the next hole to stick my feet into and next ledge to grab a hold of. After a few feet of ascent, I peered down at the eyes of my friends and colleagues. Nodding in affirmation, I continued the rest of the way up with Grissom tight on my heels, Catherine behind him and everyone else in between while Warrick finished off the "sandwich".

By the time I even touched the bone chilling cold metal guard railing of the highway, my hands endured a beating like no other. The metal both stung and soothed the throbbing skin as I pulled myself up and over the railing, stumbling down to the gravel in exhaustion. Crawling on my hands and feet to the ledge, ducking underneath the railing, I extended my hands to Grissom.

A few grunts escaped his lips, causing a mist to float out past his lips as he reached for my offered hand. Our fingertips brushed ever-so-slightly before we lashed out for the other's hand, holding on with such ferocity that it nearly frightened me. Using the railing to keep from being pulled over the ledge, I managed to get Grissom to safety. And it was only a matter of time after that when everyone was back on land.

We were back home.

Out of breath, beaten, bruised, and downright exhausted, we stood at the ledge of the highway and glanced back at the diminutive island we'd just escaped from. And we also knew that somewhere on the other side of the lake waited a crime scene full of contamination and many more horrors. But we all knew what it would amount to.

Paperwork.

Stacks and stacks of paperwork, along with in-depth investigations by the superiors and possibly even by the lab's psychiatrist once our story was out. But that was the furthest thing from our minds right now, as Greg slid up behind myself and Nick, who stood to the left of me. Wrapping an individual arm around the two of us, I could see his mile wide smile from my peripheral vision. The smile soon spread to Nick who passed it onto me until it overtook our entire group.

The small cheers echoed across the lake as we embraced each other out of elation. There wasn't even a hint of hesitance as Grissom turned from Catherine and enveloped me into a tight embrace. Wrapping my arms about his neck, I smiled up to the cloudless night sky and the moon as it illuminated down on us. The stars seemed to be winking back messages of approval at Grissom and myself as we pulled apart, still infected with grins.

Just then, a set of headlights rounded the corner, glaring at us and blinding us simultaneously. The SUV pulled to a halt and swerved off a little bit to the side road. Eyebrows scrunched together in harmony, we approached the passenger door in utter confusion. And for once in my life, I believed this was the first time I was even slightly happy to see the weasel-like sneer on the face of Conrad Ecklie.

"Just where the Hell have you and your guys been, Grissom? The lab was searching for you guys all night!" Ecklie's eyes darted to Grissom's accusingly. But before Grissom could even get a word in edgewise, Ecklie through up the hushing hand. "You know what? Don't even say a thing. I just hope you know how much paperwork this means for you... _All of you_. Abandoning a crime scene and failing to tell anyone about it?..."

We all rolled our eyes as we climbed into the SUV. Grissom pleaded Catherine with pitiful blue eyes to sit in the front seat with Ecklie while the rest of us occupied the middle and backseats. The boys scrunched together in the middle, unbearably uncomfortable from being wet from their swim while Brass, Grissom, and myself squished into the backseat, the furthest we could get from Ecklie's complaining as he listed off all the lab's procedures we'd violated as he pulled off.

Greg made faces at him from behind the seat, mimicking his every word with an exaggerated fight between his hands. His right hand represented Ecklie, as I guessed, while the left represented us as a group. It eventually ended with "Ecklie" supposedly screaming at us before devouring us. I hid the laugh under my breath at his antics as I reached with my own hand for Grissom's. His hand slightly hesitated, but ended up lightly grabbing mine in the end.

_We did it... We made it..._ I thought with contentment as I watched Greg magically resurrect his left hand before he began beating back "Ecklie" triumphantly, allowing an "epic" battle to ensue. _Back home for some peace and quiet, and hopefully a hot shower._

I'd had enough adventure for tonight. We all had.

**The End.

* * *

**

A/N2:) Yeah, had to get the humor in there as well as the GSR (sorry for all the others that were hoping for Snickers) but look at it this way... You can substitute it in your mind, can't ya? Lol, hope you enjoyed the ride, and hmm.. I got some pretty persuasive responses about the epilogue question... Eh, what the Hell... I'll do it. Guess it's not the end after all, huh? Lol..

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Here's the much promised epilogue, and I won't say I busted my back over it, but given the truck load my school just dumped on me, this is my A- game. And I'm quite proud of it (and I'm the most modest person you'll ever meet.). So, I hope this satisfies ya'll because I don't feel like going back and redoing this again because someone wanted Greg's shirt to be blue or some ish like that! (Hahaha and if I even DO get a complaining review, I probably will feel inclined to do just that.) Well, enough of me.

Disclaimer: RAWR I DON'T OWN ANYTHING! Now get back, evil lawyers before I have to beat you back with a stick!

* * *

Chapter 14: Epilogue

* * *

Greg's POV:

I fought with my hair in my locker's mirror, begging with it endlessly to stay down for the court date I had coming up. I was a step away from resorting to super glue before Nick strolled into the locker room, preparing to hang up his jacket. I could feel his eyes concentrating solely on the back of my head.

"Shut up, okay? The hair feels better when it's up." I told him with a grunt of aggravation as I made a last attempt at flattening the mass of dead cells I called "my hair".

"Yeah, so don't a lot of other things," Nick joked ever-so-nastily with that typical grin on his face, "but either way, it gets you in trouble."

Laughing sarcastically, I tried to cover up the fact that I knew _exactly_ what he meant. It's the reason why I no longer had a girlfriend now, as of last night. And it wasn't even her that dumped me. It was her father when he discovered us.

_Last time **I** ever agree to go over to a girlfriend's parent's house for dinner, knowing she was gonna be dressed like **that**._ My mind agreed as I recalled the way that red dress had highlighted everything nicely. _I'm gonna miss that._

It was exactly a year from today that we'd made a run from that island in the middle of Lake Mead. And a _lot_ had changed since then. I had met, dated – and now been dumped by – Samantha, Nick had moved on with his life as well, Cath and Warrick finally stopped playing the mind games with each other and got together, and though no one ever spoke of it – as they shouldn't – we all knew in the back of our minds that the boss and Sara were no longer playing the "Timid Tango" with each other and finally moved passed themselves as well. I had to hand it to them, or to Grissom especially.

_Knowing I'd have **that** to go home to..._ My mind said teasingly, picturing Sara in my mind's eye for a moment. _Don't think **I** could make it through the day of working side by side with her. _

And as for Brass... Well... He was just as "Brassy" as ever. Nothing could change him.

I would suppose one could speculate that I had... grown up, since a year ago. But not much could be changed about myself either. The most apparent part, at this moment, was my hair, which sprung up higher than I'd ever seen it before – even _with_ the aid of my hair gel. Snapping my locker shut, carrying the "out of sight, out of mind" phrase fresh in my mind, I turned to Nick once more.

"Got scissors?"

"Got hairspray." Nick commented as he tossed an aerosol can in my general direction, which I promptly threw back the moment I touched it like it was some diseased ridden thing.

"What do I look like? A seventies child?" I shot an offensive look as Nick stared between myself and the can with hurt and inquiring eyes. Without thinking, I caressed the top of my head back with my hand in an effort to show off. "I'm all eighties child, man."

Nick barely managed to stifle his laugh as his eyes traveled up to my hair. "Yeah, and I guess the judge will see that too."

Yanking open my locker door once again, I groaned as the consequences of my actions destroyed the hours I'd put into flatten most of my hair.

"Oh dammit man!"

* * *

Warrick's POV:

"A tall black coffee, fresh out of Dunkin's." I pronounced as I entered the break room to see a certain blond CSI sitting at the table with her nose buried so deep into a newspaper, I was positive she could smell the ink. "I see Griss still hasn't arrived with our assignments for tonight. Wonder what's keeping him?" I stated the last sentence with a chuckle.

Catherine never looked up from the newspaper as she replied with a somewhat distant voice while she grabbed for the coffee she'd made me run out to get, _especially_ for her. "Probably similar to the same thing that was keeping me from completing my rest or shower before we came into work tonight."

My face scrunched up as I passed the coffee off to Cath, the image of Griss and Sara in the office. No offense to either, but not even Cath and I would go to _that_ extreme. I would like to _think_.

Freeing my mind from that thought, I was about to ask Cath what it was that she was intriguing. She hadn't so much as looked up at me the entire time I'd been in. But just as I opened my mouth, a well dressed, flat haired, and defeated Greg Sanders and a defiant, typically smiling Nick Stokes both stumbled and sauntered in. Casting a bemused glance at Greg, it earned me "The Palm", along with the, "I don't want to talk about it" look as he disappeared over to the couch.

"What's up with Gregor?" I moved on to ask Nick who sat down next to me, staring over his shoulder at the arm-crossed Greg on the couch.

"Mr. Eighties Man had to use my 'seventies' hairspray to get his hair to work for court today." Nick proclaimed with a triumphant smirk.

"_Never again!_" Greg promised with an accusing finger pointing straight at Nick. "Never again will I sink this low, okay? My hair is now Hazmat material!"

"Oh c'mon Gregor... Hazmat could find _so_ much worse on you if we brought them in." I teased respectively with a grin. "Why do you think they grabbed you and Sara out of that house? Hazmat found out you existed and Sara was in close proximity."

Greg forced out a sarcastic laugh before turning away with a pouty lip while Nick laughed to himself. "Oh that was cold, man."

"Happy Killjoy Day to all..." Came the announcement from Brass as he walked into the break room unexpectedly. "And to all, hopefully a night not filled anywhere near that island."

"Please don't even mention that name, Brass." Sara's voice trailed in just shortly before she made her appearance, unfortunately without Grissom who held our assignments captive. "You _know_ what today is."

"Oh c'mon, it wasn't that bad..." Brass insisted. "So where's the boss?"

More than a few eyes were cast over to Sara who, in turn, held up both hands in defense. "Don't look at me, you guys... I didn't do anything with him. I haven't even seen him since I got into the building."

I noted the swift and disbelieving eye roll that Nick did to himself.

"Whatcha got there, Cath? Trying to see if you're next crime scene is in the newspaper already?" Brass asked as he walked around behind Cath to peer over her shoulder.

Finally, Catherine laid the newspaper down on the table, laying a pointer finger onto a picture and matching article. I did a quick double take before the reality of the picture hit me, drawing me up and out of the seat.

"_Diary of Good Scientist Turned Bad: Dr. Robert 'Killjoy' Johanson's Life & Death_?" I read aloud with a tone of surprise. "What the Hell?"

"Get the Hell out of here! They have something about him in the paper?" Greg spoke as I heard the couch creak as he and Sara joined the party hovering above Catherine.

"'Father of five, husband of two, and executioner to hundreds. Dr. Killjoy's life was a drama since the beginning. Abandoned along the side of the road as an infant, he was found by a prostitute of the time and raised until the age of 15 by the same woman. Fascinated with the inner workings of the human mind, and how easily his surrogate mother seemed to affect the minds of males everywhere, he began theories and experiments at the age of 10. Killed before his very eyes at age 15, Killjoy participated in the coronary investigation upon the arrival of the medical examiners to his surrogate mother's crime scene.'" Nick read the first paragraph, seemingly astounded. "Damn, no wonder he was so screwed up... Poor guy probably went through a lot of sexual abuse as a kid."

There was a simultaneous nod amongst the group as Greg continued reading. "'At age 22, Killjoy met his first wife, Melinda Vossler, a known ex-con. Together, the two produced a set of identical triplets. A year after the triplet's birth, Killjoy fled for reasons unknown. Some surmised that the thoughts of actual parenthood scared him away while others speculated that he left to pursue his dreams of knowledge. For years after he left, he studied biology as well as psychology at the most prestigious colleges, meeting his second wife along the way.'" Greg whistled after his paragraph. "The guy was a player then. Has three kids, up and leaves, moves onto another little honey."

"Greg? Never again." Sara lifted her eyes momentarily from the paper before she picked up reading. "'When finally his pursuit of knowledge was complete, he moved onto his next step: Opening an asylum to put his intellect to use. His second wife gave birth to his other two children a year after forming the Insane Asylum in the very middle of Lake Mead. Over time, the man everyone knew as Robert Johanson gave way to a man much more darker. A man known more properly as Dr. Killjoy. The admittance of his triplet daughters from his previous marriage was what careened him over the edge, however, bringing his past back to haunt him.'"

"Geez, and I thought _my_ marriage was bad." Brass scoffed slightly with a shake of his head. "'Reports of experimentations on the patients and animals that wandered the island alike were only heard about after his death. Amateur lobotomies and other brain surgeries, extensively cruel treatments involving the ingestion of different poisons for months at a time, a mixture of solitary confinement with shock therapy were just a few of the things a patient at the Killjoy Asylum could expect to endure. Killjoy combined and mutated the animals in hopes of creating the perfect guard animals, though most attempts usually failed or the results were unknown.'" Brass huffed after he finished his paragraph. "I think we _all_ know what _became_ of them."

There was an equal shudder than still ran through all of us, and I found myself clutching unconsciously at my stomach while I saw Sara protectively rubbing her right forearm. Tissue damaged scars still left their marks on us, and every morning while we're still in bed, Cath traces my scars like she was tracing a map.

"'Over time, the whereabouts and fates of his wife and two children from the second marriage were lost to the tides of time, as well as two of the three children from his first marriage. One, however, by the name of Sarah discovered how disturbed her father was and made all efforts to escape. It is even rumored that there was an escape route she designed personally, but she never got to use it as her young life was cut short at the hands of her father and his _Ultimate Survival Test_ that she simply did not survive from. Little 15 year old Sarah Ann Vossler-Johanson was found mauled to death in the woods surrounding Lake Mead on Friday, June 13, 1909 by police chief Jack Gordon of the Las Vegas Police Department who stated, _"I've never seen anything like it in my 20 years of police chief, and I earnestly hope I never have the honor of witnessing it once more."'"_ I read, easily confusing in my mind the Sarah in the paper with the Sara that stood next to me.

"Dr. Robert 'Killjoy' Johanson was put on the stand for the murder of his daughter Sarah Vossler-Johanson and was also put down for the suspected murder of his other children and second wife. He was sentenced to death by electrocution over at the Eastern State Penitentiary in Maryland. Not even two days of being on death row in Eastern State, Robert Johanson was found dead in his deadbolt locked cell, cause of death: Unknown. Some say his insanity in the self-proclaimed _Silent Prison_ killed him while others suspect guards had unlocked his cell in the dead of night and murdered him. To this day, it remains a mystery. But it is often said that those who dwell in mystery are doomed and fated to die in mystery as well.'" Catherine finished off the last paragraph, her words silently fading into the room as we all stood back, in awe, now that we knew the whole story behind the man of the mansion.

We all reclaimed seats around the table, not saying a word as we looked around at each other. None of us had even acknowledged Grissom had entered the room until he stood at the head of the table, holding a single casefile in his hand, looking around the table to every distant face. I could barely hear him calling out, "Hey", until he finally yelled it, jolting us all into reality.

"Anyone feel like working a case in the woods near Lake Mead?"

All of our eyes grew wide and sucked in a gust of wind as we yelled out at the top of our lungs harmoniously. "NO!"

It was minutes of tension-filled silence until we all fell into laughter as Grissom sat down and discussed the actual case, a triple homicide out in Henderson with special circumstances and more eye witnesses than we could count on our fingers and toes.

* * *

Fifteen years later...

"C'mon, guys! Catch up, will ya?" Cole Stokes eagerly urged his best friends as they lagged behind as they tracked through the woods around Lake Mead.

"Will you stop calling me a guy, Cole? In case you haven't noticed, I _am_ a _girl_, y'know?" Leyla Sidle-Grissom proclaimed with her arms crossed defiantly as she caught up to Cole's side first. Pulling her curly brown hair back into a ponytail, blue eyes peered around inquisitively as she watched Cole climb up the tree next to him. "Why the Hell did you drag us out here anyways? It's Friday night and my parents think I'm at the movies with you guys."

Evan Sanders made a small, "Pfft" sound from beside Leyla before ducking away out of fear as she turned to glare at him. Flashing what his father considered the "Sander's Smile", he only said, "Stop being such a do-gooder, Grissom." in his defense.

"That's Sidle-Grissom to you." Leyla threatened as she turned her gaze back up the tree.

"I'd suggest you be careful with Ley, man." The tall, dark, and handsome Parker Brown chuckled. "She'll kick your ass in a minute."

"Yeah, and you'd know first hand, wouldn't you Park?" Cole quipped from up the tree, flashing a perfect smile down at his three best friends.

"Hell yeah!" Parker exclaimed with an air of self-righteousness. "I crossed the wrong lines. I admit it."

"Yeah, and my Mom is gonna verbally kick all ours if she finds out where we are." Leyla proclaimed as she looked around subconsciously, searching for her Mother.

Parker huffed as he rubbed his bare arms warm once more. "Then it's a whole lotta Sidles kicking a whole lotta ass."

"That's Sidle-_Grissom_ to you too, Park!" Leyla dead armed Parker with a pout.

"Hush down there, you guys!" Cole shushed without looking down to see Leyla's scowl and glare. He continued to look beyond the horizon, and without even realizing it, Leyla had scurried up the sturdy tree to sneak a peek as well. "Look!"

"Wha..." Evan gasped in awe as him and Parker climbed up the tree parallel to Cole and Leyla's tree. "What _is_ that Cole?"

"That, Ev, is _Killjoy's Mansion_." Cole said deviously as he continued to look on, deep brown eyes getting drunk on the sight of his next adventuring spot.

Sharing Cole's enthusiasm suddenly, and all cares of her Mother or Father finding out where she actually was, Leyla leaped down the tree. "Well, c'mon, what are we waiting around here for! Let's go search the place!"

The three boys shared a laugh as they jumped down as well and ran off after they're fearless female leader, into the depths of the woods and off to...

_Killjoy's Mansion_.

**The End**...

* * *

A/N2: Okay, Quick Fact: Eastern State Penitentiary _IS _a real prison that DOES reside in Maryland, US. But it's no longer able to hold prisoners since it went out of commision sometime in the early 1900s. It _IS _haunted and a few days before Halloween, they give tours through the building (Last I knew of). Heh, and as for if you people are wondering if this Dr. Killjoy is real, nope. Not even. Had you going though, didn't I? Though, it'd be a lie if I said I didn't loosely base the character on Hitler along with someone else.

Well, there you go, guys (and girls). I tried to sum up everything about the story as I could, and then added something on top of that. Sorry, couldn't help myself. Do I plan on making a sequel? Most likely not, because then too many people are gonna read the sequel and be all, "EH! IT'S NOT CSI! THEY JUST GOT THE SAME LAST NAMES! RAWR I EAT BABIES!" (Oh my, Chloe) But who knows? Maybe ya'll could persuade me if you really want. (You're probably like, "PLEASE NO! GO AWAY! WHY DO YOU EVEN BREATH?!") lol, but, I'll cut this goodbye shut by saying, It's been fun and I hope ya'll enjoyed the story. I've already got a couple WIPs in the vault, so keep a lookout for me, ya hear? A'ight catch ya'll later.

Peace out, one love,  
MC New York


End file.
